Hard Time
by Nyx6
Summary: When Roman Reigns enters the prison system he is paired up with a scruffy haired copper blonde named Dean. But Roman is not there for any ordinary reason as his quirky cellmate will come to find out. Yet Dean has problems of his own to handle. Can the pair of them take down their enemies together or will their hard time be the end for them both?
1. Murder Is Murder I Guess

**Here I am again! Okay, so this idea popped into my head a little while back and so I had to feed my muse and write it out. Gonna be super heavy on the bromance (but it's me, so you knew that) plus plenty of cameos and twists and turns. As ever, please let me know what you think and I hope you like the kick off...**

* * *

 **Murder Is Murder I Guess**

The numbered prison cells stretch off into the distance lining the wide and freshly swept ground floor and then carrying on past the spidery steel staircase to the grated mezzanine level suspended up above. The complex is lighter than Roman has been expecting thanks to the abundance of halogen lights, but is otherwise stark and painted pretty plainly with the exception of the grey and thickset cell doors.

He is trooping in a procession with the rest of the newcomers and holding onto the belongings that have been given to him for his stay as well as the few additional items he has been allowed to bring in himself from back in his outside life.

Ear plugs are the first things and had been highly recommended by a couple of guys he knows who have been inside before, alongside a set of headphones for listening to music, bath towels and even flip-flops for the germ ridden shower floors. Frankly Roman hasn't spent much time thinking about the last one because if he _had_ then he likely would have just cut out and run, since the prospect of potentially picking up scabies or hepatitis while washing bothers the _shit_ out of him.

He has photographs too and books and pens and paper and other largely mundane and menial crap, that he never in his life would have _thought_ about packing because being locked up has never been in his plans. Honestly it's _still_ not but he's gone beyond that point now because there he is clad in his bright orange prison scrubs and trampling along at the back of a procession of men who are being spun off into cells one by one.

For whatever reason he is last on the rehoming list and so has to stand watching them go until right at the end and gradually feeling his anxieties rising as the line of men before him slowly falls away to one. From what he can see he's not the only first timer which is clear in the wide eyes that blink around the place, while other men still simply swagger through the cell doors like they're finally home.

Maybe some of them are.

Given that he is by no means a novice to the general penal system – admittedly albeit from completely the other side – the thing that surprises Roman most about the whole thing is the cacophony of noise that rises up from all around and blends together in a burst of rhythmic banging and with shouts that don't contain many actual words.

Intimidation tactics, must be.

He knows that in an instant because he knows enough to figure how the criminal mind works and also enough about big men and bullies to guess that the residents would like to freak new inmates out.

He grunts a little.

 _Sorry fellers_.

Because whatever else happens, no way is he letting that kinda bullshit work on him.

Roman has been assigned a cell up on the mezzanine and right at the furthest end of the first floor, in a room daubed with big numbers that barely fit beside the windows and heavy looking locks that buzz then automatically blast back.

"Reigns, this is you."

Bored hands pull the door wide as the same corrections officer who has been sauntering ahead of them checks his watch for lunchtime then flaps him hurriedly inside.

Roman steels himself a little.

 _Now or never uso._

Then he steps past the guard and into his new home.

The first thing he sees when he looks around the box room are the big white walls that loom up on both sides and make it seem like they are physically closing in on him, which he knows that they're not but briefly struggles to apply. There are two narrow beds pushed up to the window which is frosted and barred so they can't see outside, but it throws in a tiny little burst of natural lighting which is suddenly so beautiful that it makes his heart sigh. Butting each bed is a plain metal locker and single shelving unit for keeping his stuff and there is also a tarnished and totally _unhidden_ toilet with a basin and built-in paper dispenser above.

Lack of privacy and hygiene notwithstanding though, Roman doesn't really take much of the space in, because his eyes are drawn instead to a figure stretched out lazily and reading a book on the uncomfortable left hand bed. He is long and lean but also pretty skinny if the curve of his lithe waist has any further say and is mostly clean shaven with a mop of tangled copper that sits above a louche but bright looking blue gaze. It is focused for the most part towards _On The Road_ by Jack Kerouac in the most moth eaten paperback that Roman has ever seen, but they flicker up and then study his form momentarily, before sliding back again with a grudging sort of grunt,

"Hey man."

Roman nods back,

"Hey."

It seems fairly positive and clearly thinking the same the corrections officer barks a loose cough out and then bangs the hefty prison door back shut behind him, before triggering the bolts solidly into place again and with a _thwacking_ noise that reminds him there is going back from it. Roman stands silently simply blinking for a moment, then licks his dry lips and opens his mouth,

"So, uh – ,"

His cellmate cuts him off with a brisk looking hand wave, still frowning at the torn book clenched in his hands and the bigger man stops himself pretty much instantaneously then waits for a beat,

"Hold on man, m' readin' here."

Roman lifts a brow but refuses to _hold on_ to anything and so instead takes the locker by what he guesses is his bed, into which he piles his home brought towels and spare clothing as well as the important hepatitis shower shields. He figures that his photos can be pinned to the stark wall to liven the gloomy looking whitewash up a bit and so shuffles past his cellmate and the gap between the bed frames before reaching into the box and pulling a handful out. In the scheme of things they're not the best photos in his collection, but then again that isn't really the point, since all they have to do is make him seem human and like he misses his _totally normal_ life outside.

He has one of his parents but taken many years ago so that no one he meets will recognize them now, one of his sisters at a party from their childhood and one of their former and now very deceased dog. Mostly the snaps are something and nothing with a few of his senior high school football shots too, but they manage to capture the sharp blue orbs of his cellmate who is looking across frowning when Roman turns into the room.

"Is that your family?"

He nods,

"Mom, pop and sisters."

"They look like good people."

Roman blinks a bit at that because he has sort of been prepared to always be on the offensive and therefore hasn't been expecting to hear something that seems – well – _nice_.

He smiles a little wryly,

"Don't let them fool you, my old man fakes low blood sugar to skip kids in ice cream lines."

For a moment he's not sure if he's being _too_ friendly or if he's setting himself up to get a beating later on and is therefore flexing his fingers a little when the copper blonde suddenly offers him up a broad snort,

" _Dude_ , that's genius."

He seems stumped he's never thought of it but then drops his tattered book, sits up and spins around, letting his long legs scuff the bare concrete as he puts out a chirpy introductory hand.

"Dean."

"Roman."

The blue eyes twitch accordingly, then shimmer with something that looks a whole lot like mirth as he shakes his head with a light sounding chuckle that makes his copper blonde bangs nearly jump.

"No way man, that can't be your real name."

"Real as I am."

Dean grins back,

"I once knew a kid that was _legit_ called Solomon but I think you got him beat on the kickass name thing, like you totally sound like a real deal action movie star and it's super cool dude."

"Thanks."

"That shit'll help you out in here."

The words filter through as an innocent enough statement because Roman sort of figures that's how the guy always sounds, given that he appears to be vaguely sort of childlike and with a wide eyed wonder that belies his gruff tones. But hidden within the line is a tiny sort of warning or at least a brief allusion to how life in prison is and so the bigger man frowns and then tilts his head a little, looking for something more than concrete than that,

"How?"

Dean shrugs roughly then casts his eyes down again to focus on a loose flap of skin beside his thumb, that he readily starts to pick at in a nervous little tick move that Roman can see masks a type of resignation. Evidently his own name doesn't carry the same currency that he feels his brand new cellmate will have and he then makes that clear as he tries to downplay it with another little shrug that makes his top half sort of bump.

"People fuck less with the guys that sound serious."

"How about you?"

"I take care of myself."

He sounds defiant and mildly offended and it makes the bigger, broader prison newcomer smirk. Roman kind of likes the scruffy man stretched in front of him, looking quite a lot like an overgrown child and considering the type of guy he _could_ have been roomed with, it feels like a genuine lucky break of a sort. Not that he knows what his cellmate is in for, which could potentially be anything from murder to fraud, although evidently he is not the only person with that question, since when he looks up the copper blonde is staring back.

"So – ,"

Dean lifts a hand and scratches at his neckline in a too rough movement that draws marks down his throat, not that he seems to pay the damage much notice like he's immune to the pain or it's a bad habit he's picked up.

Roman lifts a brow,

"So?"

"How did they get you? I mean what did they – _like_ – lock you away for?"

Blue eyes hone in then pause for a second like the tousle haired man is waiting for the bomb to drop and for Roman to let loose that he has a thing for children or has been maybe thrown inside for trying to strangle his wife.

Not that he has a wife.

He sighs back heavily,

"I punched out the guy that was trying to steal my wallet, but I guess I threw too a little hard because the damn guy fell and hit his head on the sidewalk. It killed him pretty much instantly."

 _There_.

For the first time he's actually said it which means the worst of the thing is done –

Except for the fact that his new cellmate is blinking with a raised brow expression that he cannot quite place but which appears to sit right on the borders of sympathy with a little snatch of startlement tossed into the mix.

"Fuck man, that's rough."

"Yeah tell me about it."

"You mean they threw you in here for fuckin' _self defence_?"

Roman shrugs his shoulders then smiles back ruefully before loosely blinking down at the orange prison threads, the bright tones of which blaze beneath his periphery like a person who has snoozed too long in the sun or else has had some horrible, ludicrous spray tan, neither of which are really his bag.

"Murder is murder I guess."

"Except it isn't."

Dean seems pretty unflinching on that and since he has clearly been there longer than his roommate, he is probably a litmus paper on what constitutes good or bad. Roman blows a breath out and folds down onto the mattress, which he totally expects to bounce beneath his weight but instead merely jars his spine from top to bottom since the thing has the give of a granite countertop.

He winces through it,

"How about you man, what are you in for?"

"Got busted sellin' drugs which I know is a kinda _punk move_ an' everythin' because _like_ what am I twelve years old? Pretty much how it is in the neighborhood m' from though."

"Dealing in pills?"

"That or end up in the ground – if you're not with 'em you're against 'em."

Dean says the sentence lightly but it makes Roman suck in a breath all the same, while simultaneously giving heartfelt thanks for his nice stable childhood and the suburban neighborhood he has lived his whole life in. Not that he's a stranger to how hard others have it and in fact his career path has made him more aware than most, which means that the story _should_ have lost the power to shock him but in the bareness of their surroundings it seems to hit him in the gut. Not least because the copper blonde is not a true criminal in as much as the guy was in the wrong place at the wrong time, which means that they actually have something in common since neither of them belong there.

Not for forever anyhow.

In fact he is still contemplating their misfortunes when his quirky new cellmate brightly launches himself up and leans across the tiny gap between their bedrolls to peer with animation into the sparsely filled box. His blue eyes close in on the paperback novels and he reaches forward keenly and pulls a few out which in anybody else would have triggered a beating but he seems to feel comfortable won't piss the big man off. Really Roman figures he should probably not allow it and make himself seem a whole lot more volatile and harsh, but for whatever weird reason he lets Dean do it and then smirks just a little when the other man lights up.

"You like readin'? I got a _bunch_ I can lend you, been lookin' to trade with someone for like _months_."

Roman leans back against the wall.

"You can have them, but in exchange for something else."

Dean's brow line rises up and although the bigger man keeps his face impassive, he flinches internally at how the sentence must sound, but more so still at the copper blonde's reaction which is tense and wide eyed like he's heard it before and it fires a certain pulse of _something_ through Roman which might just be fondness or protective alarm.

He continues easily,

"I need someone to show me around here."

Relief floods Dean's features,

"Sure thing man, I'll give you the tour."

* * *

 **How better to make two people bond than throwing them into a small room together? There's method in my madness...or madness in my method, it's one of those things anyway!**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


	2. Home Away From Home

**Here we are then, chapter two already and time for Dean to show his new cellmate around the place. Thanks for all the interest this far, this story is going to have plenty of ups and downs!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, Haha, well, you know me so some angst is pretty much a given at this point! Dean and Roman both have things going on in this one and you get a hint of Dean's in this one...Roman's in the next!**

 **Cheryl24, Nope, sorry no slash, not opposed to it but I prefer to write the boys as sort of dysfunctional heterosexual life partners (Starsky and Hutch style I suppose). But they're pretty close and touchy all the same!**

 **Minnie1015, I knew you would be happy to see it pop up! Hope it turns out to have been worth the wait and if nothing else then you liked the first chapter. Let's keep our fingers crossed for the second one then!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, I know what you mean, prison stories can be a bit dark for me sometimes, but hopefully I can get you on board with this one. Plus lots of bonding and drama and peril which I know you love!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you, it's always nerve wracking throwing out a new AU story and waiting to see if anyone will bite, so thanks for being one of them!**

 **Cookiethewriter, I know what you mean about being content starved, every week I go mad wondering if he's going to pop up on screen. He has to be nearly ready to return right?! Lots of bromance ahead!**

 **Mandy, No Seth in this one (I'm sorry I know he's your boy) but lots of Roman and Dean bonding and getting into trouble and lots of cameos too so hopefully that will make up for the lack of a Rollins!**

 **Skovko, Yeah, I didn't want either of our boys to be a hardened killer or something too huge because then it wouldn't be them. But Roman has a secret too...which of course he does because when do I not have tricks?!**

 **Cherry619, Aww, thank you, my mind is a strange place sometimes but I couldn't resist the boys being locked up together. Yep, lots of twists and turns to come and plenty of drama and tension...well, I hope!**

 **Hayley1001, Aww, thank you, I'm super excited to share this story and I've been sitting on it for so long waiting to post it up! Hope you enjoy the rest of it and thank you so much for reviewing too!**

 **Wwe21, I know what you mean about Dean being more of a natural fit for prison than Roman...but Roman has a secret! It's only a T because other than the swearing this isn't too explicit or violent etc. Enjoy!**

 **Daisysakura, Oops, sorry, I'm an 'always something on the go' gal, so there is a small chance that you may never end up reading my old things unless you go for sudden binge read! Plenty of brotherly stuff in this one to come though!**

 **Time for the grand tour then...**

* * *

 **Home Away From Home**

Once the new intake of prisoners is settled, the heavy bolts are slid back and the prison populace is let loose, to flood the mezzanine in bright flashes of orange and more shaven heads and tattoos than Roman can even count. He knows from the notes he read over before arriving that the facility can house a total of three hundred guys and although that theoretically makes the complex a _small_ one, it sure doesn't feel like that now he's inside.

He blinks at all the bodies,

"Damn."

Dean laughs,

"Yeah, I know right?"

He is leaning casually on the thick steel railings that overlook the bustling prison expanse, rhythmically working a stick of gum over his molars like a substitute for chewing his own cheek or maybe worse.

Roman blows a breath out,

"So, these are the neighbors?"

Dean grins back at him,

"Most fucked up ones you're gonna have."

"Do you know them all?"

"Some of 'em sure," Dean shrugs at him and his mood is easy and sort of relaxed –

Like it has been from the second the cell doors had sprung open and he had hustled them both out to impart his promised tour which had then been delivered at so much of a gallop that Roman's poor head is _still_ spinning from it all.

In so much as he can figure it the prison complex is hexagonal, with the cell wings securely in the middle of the show and then further surrounded by the general trappings of life there such as libraries, phone rooms, shower blocks and the chow hall. Roman had started off calling it the _dining room_ but Dean had barked pretty derisively at that and then offered the comforting little nugget of information that using outside terms was likely to get them both knocked out.

Roman had nodded –

Chow hall it was then.

But irrespective of the name the room itself had been obvious given the tables bolted into the floor, with built-in seats which then couldn't be ripped upwards and therefore used as projectiles in the case of a riot or full-scale gang war.

"Do many of those happen?"

His cellmate had shrugged,

"Not _too_ much."

Dean had then pointed proudly to a point across the counters where the food was clearly served out from big metal trays and beyond the sneeze glass to an industrial kitchen where machinery glinted in the bright synthetic blaze.

"That's where I work, they got me on breakfast which isn't a bitch since it I get the rest of the day. Downside is I have to be up by five thirty to help get things started though."

Roman blinks.

Having jobs.

It is something that he has been informed beforehand will be happening but which he is evidently still waiting to be formerly assigned and which kind of baffles the living _heck_ out of him because the concept of the thing seems pretty damn wild. In theory the idea behind it is simple in that it teaches the prison populace to be responsible for once and to pledge to something potentially for the duration in a way that they might never have otherwise done. On top of which it also allows them to earn money to buy nicer food stuffs or longer phone calls back home.

But beyond that there is still a pretty big problem –

Prisons simply don't _have_ three hundred plus jobs, which is likely why they pass three separate bored inmates attempting to mop the same patch of the chow hall and another five clearing breakfast crap from the tables which it seems pretty clear is more a _one person_ role. Dean at least though seems pleased with his allotment and so Roman merely nods then continues the tour, lightly debating what role _he_ might get stuck with.

Knowing his luck, likely flushing the drains out.

Dean then leads them past the furniture workshops, the therapy room and the designated teaching block, where those still struggling to earn their high school diplomas are dropped into lessons whether they want them or not. More rooms still are set aside for television and one houses a tiny but fully functioning kind of gym that leads them onto the obligatory outside yard space filled with burly guys stood in sour faced groups.

Dean murmurs at him,

"Keep your eyes down man, this is where the fuck knuckles like to hang out an' I mean the _real_ bad types you definitely don't screw with unless you got a hankerin' for a rearranged brain."

Roman lifts a brow at him lazily,

"Not today anyway."

Dean in turn throws him back a grin.

By the time they make their way back into the cell block and up the stairs to the mezzanine floor, Roman feels positively _wiped_ by their excursion not to mention the new rules and way of life he's in. Little wonder that a headache is building up steadily and blooming like a total bitch right behind his eyes, which makes his features twist up in an agony that his gabbling cellmate clearly doesn't realize.

"So that's the tour dude, home away from home huh?"

He slaps the thick metal railing with his hand, then keeps on banging like he's playing a drum kit, while at the same time throwing in a rhythmic grunting sound.

Roman winces,

"Uh, can you stop that?"

Dean sort of _blushes_ then quickly stops the beat, but has to clamp his hands to the metal to prevent the _itchiness_ from surging straight back and making him start up again. It is obviously a deeply subconscious little pattern that channels the anxieties down from his head and likely saves the copper blonde from totally losing it, which Roman can't help but figure must be common in there.

Dean shrugs in apology,

"Sorry man, can't help it – been doin' this _twitchy_ shit since I was a kid. Doctor here told me I could take somethin' for it an' wrote me out a ticket but I never saw the drugs. Whatever though y' know? I mean it's not like I _need_ 'em, besides that kinda thing happens all the time."

Roman frowns rapidly,

"What kind of thing happens?"

"People not gettin' their pills an' shit man – like – it happened to Sami Callihan my old cellmate pretty badly. He had this condition where his brain sorta scrambled an' tended to get itself all kinda _fried_ an' he needed this drug to stop from goin' loco 'cept they never even gave him a single fuckin' _dose_."

For a second the blue eyes flicker in anger as the copper blonde tightly screws his twitchy fingers up, bunching them into hot fists of sheer resentment that bleed into the sudden fierce clenching of his jaw.

Roman prods lightly,

"So what happened to him?"

He feels that he might be pushing his luck, or forcing the one friend he has in the whole system into sharing the sort of thing that he likes to keep locked up. In fact it makes him feel pretty much like an asshole but isn't that the reason he's even in there at all? It's stuff like this that he is trying to uncover and therefore essentially simply _has_ to know.

In response the copper blonde tips his head sharply to bring it down towards his shoulder with a haphazard little bump before repeating the movement on his other side absently as a memory shivers through his wide unblinking orbs. It lasts for a second or maybe even longer since neither one of the pair of them is wearing a watch, but seems to be over with a sudden loose head shake and a long blown out breath that he follows with a shrug,

"He got shipped off – they transferred him outta here when he smashed our damn cell up."

"You miss him?"

"I guess, but wherever he is I hope he's gettin' what he needs now, or I mean otherwise what's the fuckin' point of all this shit?"

Roman blinks at him for a second sympathetically, then fiercely resists the urge to put a hand out because he's obviously trying to paint a brave face on it and which means that whatever said _former cellmate_ had going on mentally, Dean and he had evidently been tight and had a friendship or brotherhood that had provided them protection and a certain stability against the thrust of prison life.

He swallows down a lump,

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Dean however doesn't respond and although Roman figures he is muted with emotion, when he looks across he finds it being triggered by something else, since instead of being sad the copper blonde is sharply focused on a bulky pair of figures swaggering past them underneath and standing out a mile in the sea of the orange jumpsuits purely on account of their impressive hair growth.

Roman blinks,

"Who the hell are those guys?"

"Harper and Rowan."

"Are they friends of yours?"

Dean snorts roughly and his lips twitch a little but he keeps on glaring as he flexes against the rails, like maybe he is thinking of throwing himself across them and taking the pair out in a kamikaze rage. Roman even has to fight back the latent instinct to grip his cellmate in a tempering hold, in the way he has been taught to cling onto the bridge jumpers until the trained negotiator can turn up and talk them down.

Looking back again, Roman studies the gorillas who have managed to get his new buddy so riled and the more he stares the less he likes about them –

Not least the way the populace skate out of their way.

Both of the guys are built like towers and sporting pretty heinous quantities of long facial fluff that move between red on the taller of the giants to black with grey flashes on his friend to the left. Neither of them speak but they walk at a shamble, like they literally have all the time in the world and it is possibly _that_ and the way they are so silent that sends the big man's senses into instant overdrive.

Dean looks across at him,

"Those two aren't friends with _anyone_ 'cept for Bray Wyatt and his ass is long gone."

"Bray Wyatt?"

"Their mentor come creepy _cult leader_ who used to get his kicks by bein' damaged as fuck."

"Meaning?"

Dean shrugs but it comes off too jerky like he is trying to shake the memory off and Roman feels his brows furrow closer on instinct because the movement is too reactive and it feels kind of _wrong_.

Rough hands wave,

"Bray used to have _favorites_ , people that he kinda – like – _fixated_ on y' know?"

"Why?"

Dean snorts,

"I mean, who the fuck knows man? I never really felt like goin' over there to ask."

"Did that include you?"

Blue eyes flicker over and then hold the brown gaze for a fraction too long although it at least saves Dean from having to answer because the look and resurgent twitchiness say everything at once.

Roman clears his throat and tries to sound casual,

"Where did he go?"

Dean waves airily again but in a move that makes it look like he's batting away a hornet that is trying to lay a clutch of eggs in his hair and it makes the bigger man smile just a little because already he is fond of the ever twitchy man, in the way an older brother might look at a kid sibling who is totally chaotic but largely means well.

"He turned state evidence on some guy he used to bunk with, but that was – _like_ – three months back now, which might as well be a fuckin' _lifetime_ in this place, so I'm gonna take a punt here and say his ass has moved on. Maybe to a nice place that has the death penalty, because – _hey_ – I mean, a guy can hope, right?"

He grins like a loon and the bigger man chuckles then tousles the hair before he realizes he has.

Roman freezes –

 _Crap_.

Dean however lets it happen, like the gesture is something that his cellmates have always done, or like he perhaps hasn't registered the contact or _has_ done but at the very least doesn't seem to mind very much. Roman falters, not sure how to address it but is luckily cut off by a sudden buzzing sound, which blares out loudly to an instant wave of movement as all around them orange jumpsuits start to lumber towards the hall.

He frowns,

"What's that?"

"Dinner time _brotha_."

Roman blinks brightly and potential floods his veins as he watches the exodus clearing the cell floor then realizes that the solitude is precisely what he needs. He turns to Dean and tries to look casual before gesturing lightly across his shoulder with a thumb, adding in a tone that he hopes to god sounds easy and doesn't flag up the rapid beating of his heart,

"Actually man, they fed me in holding so I think I'm gonna skip it and make a few calls."

Dean falters briefly,

"Want me to come with you?"

"Nah, I'm a big boy but – you know – thanks though."

In response to the teasing but smiling expression, his scruffier cellmate shrugs and then bites back a grin, like he maybe has missed having somebody to bounce off in the however many weeks since his last buddy was hauled away.

"Yeah alright man, but just be careful."

Roman nods back at him,

"Same goes for you."

* * *

 **Next chapter we find out a bit about Roman because it turns out that boy has a surprise. As ever guesses are welcome but you should know that I pout horribly when you folks get them right!**

 **P.S. I may up the posts to once every two days in a week or two once my crazy life has settled back into a rhythm (I hope!)**


	3. Be Safe

**Time for Roman to reveal his secret even though most of you have hit the nail on the head (now what did I say about making me pout huh?!) Hope you like where we're heading next!**

 **Hayley1001, Ooh, yep, you got me on that one as the rest of this chapter will now make super clear, but just because we know what Roman is up to doesn't mean I'm going to make things any easier on him!**

 **Guest, Thank you, I'm glad you like it, there's still a lot more to come from this story too!**

 **Mandy, Mum came home from hospital midweek so at least she's back now and we can try to be normal. Dean and Roman's relationship is the best thing ever, it's so pure and honest so I'm glad you love it too!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, Yeah, bless Dean and his random ticks and twitches, luckily Roman is not the kind of person that gets easily wound up! Roman makes his big secret clear in this chapter...you were right!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yep, if you're thinking what I think you're thinking (wait, what) then a certain copper blonde haired someone will indeed be upset when the time comes but that's not for a long while yet!**

 **Cheryl24, I looked into prison life when I was writing so I know some jobs are more sought after than others, but I suppose anything is better than nothing? No Seth in this one, sorry. Hope all is well with your ex.**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Glad you're still enjoying it, Roman's secret is revealed in this chapter which might end up changing a few things down the line…**

 **Cherry619, Haha, well, who's to say that I won't be roughing up both boys in this story? But either way, never fear there will be a bunch of hurt/comfort and brotherly love in this one, how could there not?!**

 **Ohana1337, Yay! Welcome back and yes I'm still busy writing like a lunatic so hop on board and enjoy (I hope). Yeah, looks the secret isn't such a secret but there is still one person who doesn't know!**

 **Daisysakura, Yep, definitely some foreshadowing going on because you can never have too many enemies in a story right?! I LOVE when Roman tousles Dean's hair it is so instinctual and cute!**

 **Minnie1015, Aww, well thank you for sparing my pouting and as a reward I won't leave you in suspense for a minute longer! Also, this may be the brotherliest (so a word) story I've ever written.**

 **Wwe21, Yeah, I wanted someone who Dean used to know from his indie time and who might be a bit of a loose cannon and he seemed to figure perfectly for this story so voila, his cameo (sort of) was born!**

 **Skovko, Is this the part where I say I never watched Prison Break? Was I the only one?! Yep, no matter what happens in life, the Wyatt family will remain my favourite weird bad guys ever!**

 **KyanaM, Thank you (puts pouty lips away) Super happy you like it so far. I just had a sudden hankering for a real brotherly love story and this was born! Plenty more to come, including Roman's secret in 3, 2, 1…**

 **Stingerette1975, Nice guess on the daughter (kinda wish that was the answer now) but never fear because the secret will be revealed here and maybe you won't feel quite so sorry for Roman once it's out (or maybe you will...)**

 **HannonsPen, Yay! Glad you're with us for this one too and like it already, now let's hope I can keep the excitement up! Nice guess by the way and yep, you've rumbled me, but there are still a whole bunch of surprises to come!**

 **Back into the prison...**

* * *

 **Be Safe**

Luckily and unsurprisingly given it being chow time, the telephone room is pretty much clear with the exception of a thin and pasty guy in one corner who seems from his tone to be talking to a kid, if the fact that he is slowly reciting _itsy bitsy spider_ is a determining factor.

Roman sure hopes it is.

He heads to the far end of the long line of cubicles then takes a seat to work out how its done, which has handily been written on the side of each payphone in a _how to_ for baffled looking newbies like him. He has a card in the pocket of his fashionista prison scrubs that had been given to him five hours before with a startled looking photo that had been taken in processing and that will now more than likely follow him around.

It's a bank card of sorts that is linked to his _in house_ account which he knows has already been paid a healthy amount and so he swipes the black stripe through the payphone receiver in the knowledge that he has credit enough to begin a quick brief.

He stabs in the number that he has memorized so carefully and then waits for a moment for the call to connect, which seems to take a long and drawn out few seconds that he passes by drumming his fingers on the desk.

Maybe Dean is already wearing off on him?

Roman grits his teeth in frustration –

"Come on."

He is a second away from hanging up and giving up on it and skulking his way back to the lonely little cell, when the ringing is interrupted with a grunt and then a clatter which implies that the recipient has dropped the phone,

" _Damn_ – ,"

"Boss?"

Roman can picture the scene all too easily since he's been present at it happening a million times before, sitting at the desk that is always strewn with paper and watching his tall employer hunt the receiver down, which is then usually fumbled or answered in such a hurry that he either disconnects it or holds the thing the wrong way round.

More fumbling follows, then a voice,

"That you Reigns?"

He blows out the breath he has been holding,

"It is."

In response to the confirmation Police Captain Hunter Helmsley huffs in relief and more than likely rubs his eyes, in the settling motion he does without thinking and which one day will probably push the things damn right inside.

"Everything good?"

"I mean, I haven't been stabbed yet so I'm guessing that's a plus."

Roman is going for light in what is possibly another latent _quirky cellmate_ side effect but could also be the comfort of simply hearing a familiar voice. Hunter grunts back at him to show his displeasure at the ribald type of humor he has already picked up and it makes the bigger man sober a little and put his professional face back on in a flash,

"I meant how are you finding it? Have you met your roommate?"

"Yeah, he's – ,"

Roman stops.

How to explain Dean in few words?

Hunter however simply blasts right on past it since his natural policeman instincts are firing hard and he is clearly impatient to move onto bigger issues besides new friends and girls summer camp stuff.

"Have you found out anything?"

"Maybe."

"Can we use it?"

Roman hunches himself in closer to the phone, brown eyes flickering as another figure enters then lumbers across to a booth of his own. His black and grey streaked hair spike from beneath a growing bald spot located on the back of his head and the whole mess frames a pair of tiny little eyeballs that stare out unblinking and impossibly white.

Harper or Rowan.

Roman feels himself shiver and his free hand tightens into an unhappy fist, because while he doesn't know one man from the other, he knows that Dean hates them and therefore on instinct mistrusts them both.

Hunter clears his throat across the phone line,

"Roman?"

"Sorry boss, I must've had something on my mind."

"I said have you found anything of interest we can look at?"

Brown eyes shut for a second –

 _Focus Reigns_.

"Dean mentioned people not getting their prescriptions, he says it's a pretty big problem in here."

"Dean?"

"Uh, my cellmate."

Roman has said it without thinking on the basis that his superior would somehow know who he was, because the copper blonde is basically such a screwball sort of livewire that it seems vaguely impossible there are people not in the loop.

Hunter ignores or else misses the implication,

"You think the prison guards are selling it on?"

Roman blows a breath loose and then stretches his legs out which crash up against the wooden kickboard at the back in a way that tells him whoever built the cubicles had given little thought to those over six foot tall.

"It makes sense, I mean, we both know there's a market for good, high-quality, untampered drugs."

"But do you think that's all they have got going on in there?"

Hunter is pushing for something more and although he clearly doesn't expect immediate answers, they both know the reason the bigger man is really there on the first ever undercover assignment he has been tasked with and hopefully the last he will be handed as well, since lying to people doesn't feel like police work, even if the ends somehow justify the means.

In terms of the parameters of their secret investigation, the brief they are working to is pretty damn broad, since it spans not only allegations of corruption but _also_ disappearances and suicides as well. It also includes the at least _ten_ inmates who have hanged themselves in just nine months, which is pretty excessive not to mention suspicious since they had happened in solitary and therefore away from wider gaze.

Roman blinks himself back into the present,

"Right now I couldn't tell you what the hell is going on, but I'm 'a work my ass off on getting you answers."

Hunter snorts back at him,

"I know that you will."

"Need you look something up for me first though – ,"

Roman leans in closer to the privacy of the booth and then drops his voice to a resonating whisper because this is the type of thing _no one_ else can hear since it is likely to get his ass rumbled immediately which would not be a good way to start out the case.

His boss' tone sharpens,

"Is this related information?"

"It could be, I need the whereabouts of a _Sami Callihan_."

"Who the hell is that?"

"Dean – uh, my _cellmate_ – says he's one of the guys that never got any meds."

Hunter blows a breath out and then fumbles the receiver in a way that suggests it is being wedged beneath his ear and which is followed by the sound of a ballpoint on paper and a slow and deliberate repetition of the name,

" _Callihan_."

"Dean says he got transferred outta here, but if we could find him – ,"

His boss grunts,

"I'll get it done."

Roman chooses _not_ to add the fact that his new roommate will be over the moon at them tracking his friend down, or that he feels Dean deserves to have some closure or the knowledge that his only other buddy is alive and well.

"Thanks."

In the silence that follows he rubs his eyes wearily because he suddenly feels ridiculously tired and his brain is still spinning with rules and directions and a million outside world words he isn't really meant to say.

 _Dining Hall_.

His voice when he speaks up again sounds groggy and about an octave lower than its usual bass tones, which aren't exactly light and melodious at the _best_ of times but grumble from him now like a lengthening storm.

"I haven't seen the warden yet – ,"

"Bischoff?"

Roman nods accordingly then remembers abruptly that his boss cannot see and so clears his throat roughly by way an answer while trying to slap a bit of life back into his cheeks, which doesn't really work but does draw some attention and quickly makes him stop in case someone helps him with a fist.

"I need to ask around and see what people think of him."

Hunter throws back a word of caution,

"Be safe."

Roman nods pointlessly,

"I'll check in again tomorrow."

He pauses for a second and then hangs up the call, resisting the urge to pick it up and ring right back again because his boss is his tangible link to the real world and the life that he knows is still waiting outside for him. But instead there is slumped surrounded by whitewashed walls and a whole hierarchy he doesn't much get while possibly being watched over by a crooked administration who withhold medication and maybe do things far worse.

 _Geez_.

Hauling a breath in he pulls himself upright and tries to look fierce as he strides across the room, breezing past the creepy ass black and grey striped giant that his crazy new cellmate seems to loathe so damn much and then stopping suddenly with his fingers around the handle as he latently takes in the words being said and which fill him abruptly with a sort of uneasiness that he doesn't expect and therefore cannot fully place.

"It will be good to have him back here where he belongs again."

Roman's prying eyes dart over for a second and collide with the white orbs in a sudden fixed stare which lasts for possibly three or four seconds.

Who is Harper-or-Rowan even talking about?

More importantly, who belongs where?

* * *

 **One question answered and another one posed then! Except I fully expect you clever people to have worked out who Harper was talking about! Fun and games are certainly coming...except they're not fun and games for our poor boys!**


	4. Raised By Wolves

**Back to the boys then and it's about time for some bonding. Also (and this is important to no one but me) the chapter titles are all quotes from that particular instalment, so if you ever want a flavour of what might be coming, there could be some clues.**

 **Daisysakura, Yeah, it was kind of weird without Seth for the first few chapters, like a piece was missing but I love the Dean/Roman friendship especially. I thought it was about time I made Hunter something other than the token bastard (but there are a lot of those in this story too!)**

 **Minnie1015, Haha, I know, no Steph as the boss is weird, but it had to be different somehow. I tried a bunch of different people but in the end felt like Hunter had the pedigree (no pun intended) and the chops to be the boss and Vince would be long retired in the real world!**

 **Mandy, Initially I had planned them both to be in prison, but liked the idea of Roman as the secret good guy so much more because you're so right, it suits him better, or at least we think it does! Plus there's lots more drama to eke out of it and who doesn't love drama right?!**

 **Hayley1001, Well, one thing I can always promise in my stories at some point or another is some Dean angst and an accompanying measure of protective Roman to balance it out, because frankly their friendship is best thing since sliced bread! Plenty of that to come so don't worry!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, Well, I guess that's Dean in a nutshell, who could ever meet him for five minutes and then not think about him?! Always loved Bischoff there was just something about him that always felt off somehow. Plenty of time to find out if that's true in this though!**

 **KyanaM, Haha, cookies make me feel the same way! Yeah, I thought Hunter was a good fit as the boss, can see him being fair but at the same time a bit of a ball buster on things. I can neither confirm or deny that Bray is coming back, but I WILL say there are lots of enemies in this!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Muchas Gracias (and there ends the sumtotal of my Spanish knowledge). Got some more of the boys finding things out about each other now but maybe not everything…**

 **FreakinLunaticsYard, Twitchy Dean for the win! Sometimes I feel I need to make him more twitchy so I figure prison is a good place to do that since he probably has reason! Thank you so much for the compliments, they make me blush but also smile like an idiot. Hope you like this chapter too!**

 **Stingerette1975, Ah, both nothing and everything are too obvious for this story. Plus there's a whole lot of cameos and other characters coming in, including potentially a whiskery hillbilly who will forever be my favorite wrestling villain in the world *whistles coyly then walks off***

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yep, angst and havoc will pretty much be the order of the day in this story. Basically I tried to find a setting where there was maximum drama and no chance to escape. It was either this or an asylum, that was my thought process, but I think prison works!**

 **Cherry619, Yep, Sami is going to be a fixture in this story one way or another. Totally agree with the Bray thing as well, the pair of them always had this vibe between them, like they recognised that they were both different types of 'quirky' (let's call it that!)**

 **Ohana1337, Haha, expect the unexpected but also expect the expected and everything else in between. Did that even make any sense? Glad you liked the last chapter, but to make up for the lack of Dean in that one (won't happen often) our boy is back to his quirky best here!**

 **Cheryl24, Not any direct Callihan here, but sort of by association in some respects when Dean is musing (as hopefully you will see). But Sami is certainly going to be mentioned a lot in this story as a whole. Yep, Roman is undercover and not too happy about it, but hey, someone's gotta do it!**

 **Skovko, I have an entire office that talk about Game of Thrones like that even though I have no interest. Kind of feel I miss out on the in-jokes though! And hell yeah, Bischoff always was one bizarre slimy sort of character so a perfect fit for one of my rollercoaster rides!**

 **Guest, Aww, thank you, I'm super proud of this story as a whole, but it's gonna be a long one so strap yourself in and prepare for the ride!**

 **Rebel8954, Bischoff had to be in a story somewhere, he was simply too unlikeable and smarmy a character not to use, but what is he here? Hmm, not telling! Roman will have to find out the hard way. Good luck packing, never fun but miles better than unpacking, yeesh!**

 **Time to assign prison nicknames then...**

* * *

 **Raised By Wolves**

Dinner is not a fine dining experience so Dean never hangs in the chow hall for long, staying for the time it takes to pick up his rations, find an empty table and then swallow them down.

More often still, he simply skips meals altogether and has done more and more since they hauled Callihan out. There is something about being surrounded by people and the buzz of the place that he totally cannot stand and which makes it apparent to both himself and to others that schmoozing and friendly chattering isn't really his bag and definitely not in the sort of surroundings where the saying the wrong thing is liable to get teeth knocked out.

Dean can't control his damn tongue at the best of times.

Dinner is _not_ the best of times.

It's probably the reason he blows a long breath out as he vaults the metal staircase back towards their room and then swings past the other thick doors along the mezzanine before hurriedly turning right and in through his own. For a second he's worried that his new cellmate won't be there, because that's exactly the sort of shit that the office would pull, by making him think he has this totally cool roommate before pulling an _oopsie_ and then swapping him back out. Maybe for some guy that is a fucking axe killer or some psychopathic asshole that likes torturing birds. But then perhaps even _that_ would be better than the solitude.

Possibly.

Yeah, okay, probably not.

Not that any of it matters however because when he casts upwards and into their cubicle, there Roman is leaning back on the bed, with his pillows propped upright as he flips through a familiar paperback that makes the copper blonde grin in silent thanks,

"It's good, right?"

Roman keeps his eyes on the pages,

"Read it in college but I haven't picked it up since."

"You're packin' a degree, huh?"

"Sports scholarship, nothing fancy."

"Still a whole lot fancier than what you get where I'm from."

In response to his wry but pretty scathing assessment, the bigger man looks up and then closes the book, letting it rest against his thick chested body as he casually reaches up to pillow his arms behind his head.

"You gonna go back there when you finish your sentence?"

Dean snorts shortly then drops down onto his bed, rolling his eyes as the thing creaks beneath him before flipping himself round and fully stretching out.

He shakes his head emphatically,

"You kiddin' me? No way man. If I go home I'll wind up back in here again."

"Same people from before?"

Dean shrugs at him roughly then uses his feet to kick off his treads since he cannot be bothered to lean down and use his fingers in what seems like a lot of unnecessary work. They slide to the floor with a clumsy sort of thudding noise and then lie in a heap beneath his newly freed feet and Roman watches while the ghost of a chuckle dances briefly over his lips.

Dean presses his cheek against the cool of his pillow,

"Don't get a whole lot of say in that, y' know? Dealers in my neighborhood are pretty convincin'."

"You mean they're violent?"

"Like you wouldn't believe dude, last time they broke three of my ribs for no reason, here an' then this one at the back too – ,"

He lifts up his plain white shirt as he answers and then begins to prod across his skin, landing cold hands in various places that seem otherwise normal beyond some patchy looking scars and that one bone that wouldn't heal properly and so sticks out a bit but that he thinks looks pretty cool. Roman is staring back blinking at the performance but there is something fiery and dark in his eyes, like he actually feels defensive or something, which is totally weird but also feels kind of _nice_?

Huh.

Dean lets the prison tee fall back loosely and then crosses his fingers at a point over his heart, letting his eyes drift across the plain ceiling which is studded with pits and gouges left by other guys. He grins a little absently,

"I figure I'll go east a ways, maybe find some creepy old cabin the woods, get back to nature."

Roman nods,

"Sounds good uce."

Blue eyes narrow together instantly,

"Uce?"

In twisting his head in the direction of his cellmate, the first thing the copper blonde sees is an actual blush and it seems so at odds with the bigger man's _coolness_ that he can't help but chuckle lightly back in response. Because quite frankly it's a relief that he's not an action movie star and is pretty fucking normally human after all, with the same screwed up ability to spout random shit like he does and therefore cementing what he already knows –

Namely that Roman is a nice sort of person.

Namely that Dean is no longer so alone.

"Uce means _brother_ in my family's native language."

 _What_?

Dean blinks himself back into the room and then tips his head having partly missed the answer or at least somehow feeling like he probably _must_ have done, because no way is a man he has known for five hours claiming him as a relative without knowing what he's like. Not even his _actua_ l blood has ever cared about him, so why should the other man?

He swallows down a lump.

"Uh, I mean what language is that then?"

"Samoan."

"That what your badass tattoo is all about?"

Because the scrolling that reaches from the wrist to the shoulder blade is an honest to goodness holy _mother_ of a piece and probably another fucking hell of reason that the guy won't get picked on what with his name and size of course.

Roman grins and studies the artwork,

"Kinda. This right here reminds me where I'm from, like my heritage and culture."

"Then I guess mine would be a six pack an' my old man skippin' his fat ass outta town."

"You don't have a family?"

His bigger cellmate keeps his tone loose, but it is clear in an instant that he is eager to know. Dean kind of figures he comes from an enlarged cavalcade of sisters and uncles and cousins and aunts so likely can't imagine what it's like to have no one or to have spent a poor childhood in a disparate one parent house.

 _No_ parent most of the time if he's honest.

He shrugs back roughly and then waves his hands,

"Nah, I was raised by wolves for the most part."

Roman snorts at him,

"Was gonna say you had a nice coat."

 _Fuck_.

Dean has gone for weeks without teasing or human interaction of any real kind, which makes having it back feel almost like a headrush and so he lies himself flat to the stop the spinning in his brain, all the while wearing a grin like an idiot as he keeps on blathering like he might not stop again,

"Sharp teeth too, I kinda have this thing for bitin' when people get too close an' I don't want 'em to. Left marks in my kindergarten teacher that might still be there, almost got my ass kicked right outta school. Ended up in solitary for a month when I got here 'cos I snapped my fuckin' jaws at some kinda _handsy_ guard who was pushin' me around and tryin' to act like the big deal. I mean I didn't even touch him, I straight up literally fuckin' _barked_."

He scoffs at that but the noise goes uncopied and when he turns back his bigger cellmate is noticeably tight browed,

"You've spent time in solitary confinement?"

"It's no fun dude – like – total fuckin' buzzkill, got no plans on goin' back."

"Did anything kinda _happen_ while you were down there?"

Dean blinks mildly,

"Anythin' like what?"

In response the bulky man blows a puff of air out and then tries to backpedal his question a little bit, only the sharp eyed copper blonde can see the sudden change in him and it piques his interest and sort of makes him grin. He figures that his new cellmate has seen one too many prison films and imagines a dark cell with someone bouncing a rubber ball, or maybe sadistic guards who like beating inmates senseless and then walking them off to the electric chair half concussed.

Roman carries on,

"Anything unusual, or _out of the ordinary_ – stuff like that?"

Dean lets his eyes drift back to the ceiling and wonders how the men who had the cell before them had managed to reach themselves right up to that height and then what they had used to chip chunks from the concrete or frankly why the hell they had even wanted to.

"In this place everythin' is _outta the ordinary_ , I mean it's prison y'know? It's meant to be jacked. I mean some guy _did_ hang himself in his cell while I was down there, but I don't know if that totally counts as bein' weird?"

Roman's head bobs up a bit at that part and the brown eyes turn to stare between the narrow gap and again Dean takes the look as general bewilderment since the guy is still new to the whole _prison thing_ which is why he then tries to sound deliberately casual, like at the time the thing hadn't rattled the bejesus out of him.

"Yeah, I saw 'em cartin' him outta here, white sheet across the body – that whole messed up deal."

"Do you know what happened?"

"I heard he tore his bedsheets and hung 'em round a pipe, but you hear a bunch of stuff in here, an' only like a _quarter_ of it is the real thing anyway an' the rest of the time it's just crazy made up shit."

Roman nods but his eyes stay narrowed,

"What about the warden?"

"Bischoff?"

"Does he come by?"

Dean reaches a hand towards their tiny little nightstand and swipes a book from his new cellmate's large stack, that he assumes has been left where they both can dip into it and which strikes him at once as a pretty nice touch. He is greeted with a thick and slightly yellowed copy of a novel that seems to be set in the Ancient Egyptian times and instantly decides that he might as well read it since it looks pretty cool and makes a change from his usual stuff.

"Dean?"

"Huh?"

Roman is still looking over because _oh yeah_ he asked a question which kind of got lost and Dean thinks back then remembers it vaguely and the fact that they were talking about the prison big boss.

"Bischoff – uh – he comes by sometimes, wearin' a leather jacket like he's _one of the guys_."

"But not very often?"

Dean snorts,

"Would _you_ come down here or would you stay all pretty in your ivory tower and pretend like the rest of us didn't exist? I bet he even has his own executive bathroom, so he kinda leaves us to it."

Roman nods back,

"Uh huh."

For a second or two there is simply an easy silence and the smaller man resists the urge to let out a happy sigh, because having someone _there_ is a warming sensation, made so much more welcome for the fact he likes the guy and won't feel the need to sleep with one eye open like he has honestly been preparing himself to have to do.

He sits up suddenly,

"You need a prison nickname."

Roman blinks slowly like he's not following him,

"A what?"

Dean waves his hand to emphasize his statement but the words are too fast for the move to assist. He laughs at it though since he feels fucking _chirpy_ which in the scheme of prison life is a pretty rare thing and is also why he pushes on through the confusion with a nod of assurance,

"It's kinda like a status thing."

"I thought you said my name was good enough anyway."

Dean rolls his eyes,

" _Yeah_ – I mean – it is, but who doesn't want a totally fuckin' badass handle?"

"Such as?"

He thinks for a second then clicks, snapping his fore and middle fingers together until the noise bounces in off the walls then right back and the brown eyes swing towards him pretty calmly, like Roman is indulging the younger man as if a kid.

"The Big Dog, you like it?"

Roman grins,

"Yeah I like it, so what about you?"

Dean quickly shakes his head, bumping his shoulders in a stab of disinterest that tries to downplay the next sentence he says and which he evidently fails at making sound casual since his cellmate's lax expression folds up almost at once,

"People in here tend to call me crazy, or – I don't know, _like_ – the lunatic fringe?"

Roman shakes his head,

"Nope."

"You got somethin' better?"

"Sure, like I told you already man, you're uce."

* * *

 **All hail the bonding session which I sincerely hoped you like because there's plenty more to come. Next chapter Roman takes his chances in the chow hall and possibly comes a little closer to the 'Truth?' (Hopefully those quotations will make sense when you get there).**

 **See you in three!**


	5. Breakfast Options

**First time in the chow hall then, this will be an experience for the big guy. Our first proper cameo coming your way here too!**

 **Hayley1001, Well I know I keep teasing it, but I promise that brotherly love and angst are coming your way little by little until we hit the flood but until then have some more quirky cute Dean as a present from me!**

 **Mandy, I like how the setting means they have no choice but to get to know one another and naturally because we all know they are meant to be best friends that** _ **will**_ **happen. Plus you're totally right as always the are boys are cool (no matter the setting!)**

 **Cherry619, I figure that Dean is secretly a people person but like one of those mistreated rescue dogs that only really bonds with their trusted 'human'. Roman is totally his human in this one. The bond is strong and will be even stronger so don't worry about that!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thanks, this one is a nice slow burn of a story but it's going to be heating up little by little until the real drama hits!**

 **Minnie1015, Plenty of bonding moments in this story, but only mostly because Roman can't really get away from Dean for a second what with being stuck in prison and all. Only kidding, like he would ever want to get away from his crazy brother. Enforced bonding is the order of the day!**

 **Squeegee Beckinhime, Hey there, nice to have you back on board for another one of my mad stories. I love this one and can't wait for you all to read it all, things are going to be picking up going forward too. There shall be drama and lots and lots of it!**

 **Ohana1337, Haha, well, maybe not the crystal ball part, but the rest of your guess is certainly not too far from the...um...Truth (no pun intended!) Glad you like the vibe, I never know how a brand new story will feel until I start writing it so I'm happy you like its groove!**

 **Cheryl24, The bonding certainly has begun and Roman's mother henning begins in this chapter too because he can't help himself! Well, I certainly don't mention any girlfriends on the outside, so nope, they are both free and easy (although I imagine a catch like Roman dates a lot!)**

 **Guest, Thank you, we have a few more nuggets of information to find out and then we will start to come to the real drama!**

 **Skovko, Poor Roman is trying to tread a really fine line between being a friend and a cop in this one. But which one of those will win out? Dum dum dummmm. Next chapter he is trying to be especially careful, with some amusing/embarrassing results too!**

 **KyanaM, There is a really good bonding chapter coming up in a couple, before we hit into all the crazy drama side of things that is! And as for Dean eating more, well, after this chapter you might see why he's so lean. Roman will not be happy, he loves his food!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yeah, Bischoff is certainly a person of interest on the police investigation side of things and so too is solitary confinement, as will become more and more apparent (I hope). Roman is going to have to keep his secret for a little bit longer though (if he can!)**

 **Daisysakura, Yeah, super sweet bromance chapters are my guilty pleasure and always will be! Dean is a guy that needs to have at least one person he can lean on/trust and it helps him that Roman is big enough to have his back in a fight too. Basically Roman rocks!**

 **Wwe21, Dean and Roman are definitely warming up to one another and because they are in such close quarters to one another, there is plenty more warming up and getting to know each other to come. Also, Harper and Rowan's plan will soon be clear!**

 **Stingerette1975, Yep, Dean certainly is a marked man in a sense and we'll be getting to that in a few chapters time (cue worried Roman) but before then we've got a little bit more on your hunch about what's happening which should deepen the mystery...**

 **FreakinLunaticsYard, Haha, no binge reading this time I'm afraid and you're welcome, I'm just always thrilled that people want to read these things! Lots of various drama and peril in this one, but with plenty of brotherhood to balance it out, you have my word!**

 **To the chow hall...**

* * *

 **Breakfast Options**

Roman wakes up alone the next morning, blinking into the pale light and trying to work out what's gone on. He knows he isn't home because he can't see his dresser or the familiar light shade of his grey painted bedroom walls and nor can he hear the buzz of his alarm clock or the little bird that likes to sit on his damn windowsill and chirp.

Instead he is somewhere that is too bright and far too whitewashed and humming with banging noises and low murmurs and yells.

He frowns and rubs a rough hand over his features –

Remembering is a bitch.

He is in prison.

 _Oh yeah_.

Looking across the room he searches for his cellmate and then blinks a little in what feels like concern when he cannot immediately make out the lanky body or the overabundance of copper blonde fluff.

Luckily however he has a left a scrawled note on the pillow,

 _Gone down to the chow hall to get the rations served up._

His writing is neater than the bigger man has bet on but also pretty clumsy like a youngster with a pen and it makes him snort in wry sort of admonishment because he feels like an ass for having nearly lost his shit.

Dean is at his prison assigned workplace –

Nothing too major.

Roman flops back again and then lets out a sigh like he is thinking of snoozing but that at the same time he knows his body won't allow because he is locked in a _federal penitentiary_ for god sakes and therefore in the last place he can put his feet up.

 _Damn_.

Pulling back the covers he shuffles across the concrete to the tiny little basin installed above the can which isn't a massively appealing hygiene option but in the general scheme of things is the only one he has. Luckily though the icy water is refreshing and having thrown it at his face he feels a little more alive or at the very least _resigned_ to his first full day in prison, which is likely the positive attitude that he needs to get by. He slips himself back into his less than snazzy uniform which hasn't lost any bright its lustre throughout the night and then filters out onto the mezzanine platform before weaving his way to the dining –

 _Chow hall_.

Right.

Inside it is packed.

Bright orange jumpsuits are nearly _everywhere_ in a broiling soup or some bizarre lurid mass and on top of each one is a scowl and some beard growth or else a shaven head with tattoos instead of pink skin. Roman has always considered his _own_ inking to be a good indicator of where he is from and what he considers his character and background but the guys he is surrounded by take that theory to the max. Every way he looks there are gang signs scrawled darkly or outlawed biker handles or the standard teardrop marks, some of which have obviously been professionally stencilled but the majority of which he figures have been done while inside.

In short they lack distinct imagination.

Not that he attempts to stare at any of them _too_ hard.

Instead he swiftly crosses the space towards the counters then follows the others by grabbing up a tray and shuffling along the less than palatable breakfast options while at the same time narrowing his eyes for the scruffy head of hair.

"Alright you animals, fuck, m' comin'."

He hears him before he sees him then tips his curious gaze up to find his cellmate bringing over a steaming tray of something that he slides into place behind the reinforced sneeze guard, before switching out the empty container and pulling off the heavy lid.

Pale looking oatmeal stares back glumly.

Roman misses the outside world a whole _hell_ of a lot.

"Hey, there he is."

Dean's voice snaps him out of it as his happy sounding tones cut in through the steam and he looks so genuinely pleased to see him standing there that the bigger man can't help but twitch his lips back in response.

"Sure am, I was hopin' to see you in a hairnet."

He is kidding since the copper blonde shows no signs of having one and in return the blue eyes spark back at him wilfully as the younger man grins and then sticks out his tongue, trapping the tip between his top and bottom molars like he is trying to stop himself from laughing too hard.

He flicks his hair like a cover girl model,

"These luscious locks are too damn beautiful to cover up."

"Whatever you say uce."

Dean beams again broadly but their exchange is interrupted by a sudden low cough as the guy hovering silently in the breakfast line behind Roman makes an unsubtle hint for him to move the fuck on.

Dean picks up a ladle,

"You havin' some oatmeal? Promise you man, it's way better than it looks."

Roman pauses but then shrugs his shoulders lightly and heaves out a breath as he hands across his tray because he trusts that his cellmate isn't going to try and poison him, besides which _everything_ looks like the buffet from hell. Not that he can stop his stomach from clenching as he watches the tacky mixture slop down heavily from the spoon and he then steps back as Dean gestures with the ladle to a point somewhere way off on the far side of the hall.

"You can usually get a seat at the back man, head over that way, I'll be finished up here pretty soon."

Behind him the line keeps shuffling forwards and a tray bumps him with purpose in the back. Dean shoots the holder a look across the sneeze guards but doesn't saying anything so in turn Roman nods his head, then grabs himself a tiny packet of sugar on the basis that the oatmeal isn't likely to taste great.

Maybe he should even grab a bag to hurl into?

 _Hmmm._

Okay then, maybe not.

Besides which the food is merely _one_ of his problems, since heading through the chow hall feels like being back at school with the exception of the ever present threat of mortal violence that hadn't been an issue when he was fourteen years old. Still, there is something pretty weirdly familiar about the feel and overall layout of the place, from the bunched little cliques having murmured conversations to the general air of uncertainty that prevails.

Luckily though he has a pretty good game face and it gets him in one piece right the way across the room, whereupon he slides himself onto a table then huffs a sigh out and starts to poke at his gruel.

"God damn – ,"

It is even more solid than he had readied himself for and potentially needs the assistance of a heavy duty knife, which he is honestly considering trying to use on it when a sudden commotion makes him look up.

"What the – ,"

Every head is turned in the direction of a man who is bellowing above the general roar and has pulled himself up onto a table like a speaker who is about to make the opening keynote talk. He has black hair that falls to a point beside his cheekbones and is tightly twisted into jangling braids and they whip about and slap him in the eyeballs as he casts around the chow hall and holds up his hands,

"Yo, everyone, can I get all of y'alls attention?"

Roman is surprised that some people then groan and go back to their gloopy morning oatmeal torture instead, while others still share looks with each and then grin or nudge elbows like a guy mounting tables at eight in the morning is by no means a new or unusual thing. In the background a bored looking guard lumbers forward but the sudden soapbox speaker seems not to much care, because he then launches into a long sounding monologue which is pretty hard to follow but grabs his interest nonetheless.

"As y'all people know my cellmate has been missin' but I the got news on what happened to him now."

Roman blinks.

Did he say _missing_?

Not everyone though is suckered into the reveal, since a shout rises up from the back of the chow hall and lifts a wry chuckle from the gathered and glaring crowd.

"Probably couldn't stand your _crazy_ any longer."

More voices add in,

"Shut up – ,"

"Si'down you ass."

But the man on the table is not to be persuaded and so simply presses on like the whole room is rapt, which is true enough but not quite in the way he is wanting since they mostly seem hopeful that at some point he will fall.

He clears his throat,

"I just done got off the phone with his mother, an' he's dead – y'all hear me? Murdered, that's what he was, an' this place an' those people sittin' up there all pretty are the ones what did it – y' hear me _chow hall_ – y' hear what m' tryin' to get into your thick skulls?"

He is met with loud snorts and then a crackling of radios as the prison guards suddenly fall over themselves to make him stop, in a burst of speed they hadn't shown a minute earlier and seem only to have stepped up to when the _murder_ word popped out. Not that it really _means_ anything precisely because maybe they simply don't want a riot to start?

Either way they form in a circle around the table and then roughly try to wrestle the shouting man back down, who in return tries to launch clean over their baseball caps while still throwing his thriller movie style plot musings around.

"I'm tellin' you – he got taken down there then never came back again, it ain't right y'all hear?"

He hits the ground with a bang, having finally been grabbed and then tackled by a prison guard who looks like more of a alpine mountain than a man and who is copied by several of his non-smiling colleagues in a tight pinning movement as they slap some cuffs on.

The man protests wildly,

"It's the truth, it's the truth y'all, never stop lookin' until you find out the truth – ,"

He keeps on shouting right the way through the swing doors and his voice bounces back off the stark housing wing floor but gets lost in the reemergent and unbothered chatter which returns to its old level not five seconds after that.

Roman blinks.

 _Wow_.

Rough fingers slap his table and he startles a little and then looks up, surprised but also _not_ to see Dean stood in front of him and looking pretty cheerful but very vaguely unsettled too. He slides into the seat installed opposite his cellmate and then blows out a breath,

"Is the oatmeal alright?"

"Uh, what the hell just happened in here uce?"

Dean shrugs mildly,

"Happens occasionally, 'specially with him – kinda _ironic_ given his name though, right?"

Roman frowns a little,

"What _is_ his name?"

"Truth."

* * *

 **Next chapter Roman finds out something that will affect Dean heavily. How many more secrets can he keep from the guy?**


	6. Don't Mention It Son

**Some new developments in this chapter then as the case becomes deeper and Roman finds out something that will weigh on him pretty heavily. But what is it hmmm?!**

 **KyanaM, Haha, that's okay I like that I'm still able to throw in some surprises that stick even though poor Truth is very much only a cameo in this one (sorry). The guards are all pretty much nameless shapeless entities in this story but I guess Strowman would make a pretty good one!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Aww, thank you, I'll totally take that compliment, back to the nitty gritty in this instalment but still time for a little bit of Dean being Dean too!**

 **Mandy, Bless you, I certainly try to explain everything in detail (I've tried not to but I can't help it, kinda must be my thing) so I'm glad that all my wordiness actually helps in the end! I think you'll like this one because the case moves on a bit...but only a little bit, still plenty to come!**

 **Cheryl24, Warden Bischoff will be along shortly in the next couple of chapters (I think, I can't remember precisely which is why I'm being vague). But he certainly shows his face pretty soon though. First there is something else Roman has to find out…**

 **Cherry619, Oooh, nice guess and thanks for the kudos on the Truth/Truth thing it started out as a happy coincidence before I realized what I had done and then decided to ramp it up a little more. Plenty of less than savoury happenings in that prison as the boys will find out and so will you!**

 **Ohana1337, Of course you can hug him...but which one do you mean? Dean or Roman? Maybe Truth? How about all of them? I can give you the visiting hours so you can go see them? Kidding. But Roman might need a big hug after this one and so for that matter will poor old Dean too…**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Uh oh, there you go with your secretive little guesses again! Well, time to see if you're right (bet you are) about what Roman finds out in this one. Oh and as for Truth? Well, let's just say that his name comes up again a little later on…**

 **Minnie1015, Haha, yeah pretty sure in spite of Dean's best efforts that the oatmeal is probably little more than lukewarm! Plenty of drama coming up for your viewing pleasure and especially after the next few chapters when the slow burn is over and we get into things for real!**

 **Skovko, Truth is back...but uh, yeah, unfortunately he's then gone again. Truth being so truthful was not a good thing for him! I'm afraid I'm not as nice to him in this one as in the Little Brother series. Here my cameos are a little more...transient?!**

 **Hayley1001, Aww yay, I actually love this chapter so I hope you do too. We learn a little more and Dean is adorable which is always pretty much my favorite thing in the world. But this one is going to set up some future drama, because there will always be drama!**

 **Daisysakura, Dean in a hairnet would be the scruffiest thing ever, with bits poking out and not being covered at all. So it's whump you want huh? Well you might have to wait for it but let's just say that you will not be disappointed when the story is over (well, I mean I** _ **hope**_ **).**

 **Time for more news...**

* * *

 **Don't Mention It Son**

"So you knew that guy?"

"What guy?"

Dean pushes between the swing doors and then props one open with the tip of an elbow to allow his cellmate to follow him through. Roman is wearing a frowning expression and it turns his whole face pretty thoughtfully dark.

Blue eyes blink back at him cluelessly,

" _That_ guy – the one who just got his ass hauled away."

"Truth?"

"Yeah."

Breakfast is over and the kitchen shift with it and so the two of them are heading back out into the prison to attempt to find something to do with their day, which quite honestly Roman feels is going to be impossible because other than reading or pumping iron what _is_ there? No wonder people like that poor guy go crazy –

Unless he hadn't been saying crazy things?

Dean shrugs idly,

"I know him a little, an' aside from all 'a _that_ shit he's a pretty cool guy."

"He – uh – said his cellmate went missing?"

Roman hikes his low tones into something intrigued but not even _halfway_ as probing as he would like to be, which makes his long time policeman instincts go half wild. In many ways he can almost _see_ the answers there in front of him but he can't just lean forward and pluck them out of the air, or at least not without blowing his cover pretty royally which he sadly can in no way afford to do yet.

"Road Dogg – oh yeah man – he had his ass hauled out for _somethin'_ exactly the same way Sami did. He got dragged down to the hole an' then shipped away afterwards because that's just the way things go around here."

Roman nods slowly,

"So you don't believe the murder thing?"

Dean snorts loudly and then shakes his head,

"No man, c' mon, it's prison not _the predator_."

Roman smiles thinly –

He sure hopes to god he's right.

Passing back through the starkly whitewashed cell floor on their way to the library which Roman hasn't explored yet, they swing through the general vicinity of the phone room and it makes the bigger man grind to a halt.

"Uh, you go ahead uce, I'm gonna make a quick call first."

Because he figures it is time to check in with the boss and particularly in light of what has just happened and the new information that his brain buzzing with. His instinct to pass it on is making him twitchy and he can feel his fingers starting with pulse, which is a far less obvious tick than Dean's tapping but burns fierce within him nevertheless.

He has one hand on the door before he's even done talking and it makes his copper blonde cellmate pause, but only for approximately one and a half seconds before he grins and nods back,

"Okay man, I'll come with you."

"What?"

It isn't the answer that the bigger man had bet on and to be honest it kind of knocks him back a bit because his new comrade's need to stay close is unexpected and also manages to break his freaking heart. Dean is hardly a god damn baby and yet there the guy is like an actual puppy dog.

Loose shoulders shrug at him, almost like he knows it.

"I mean – like – if that's cool an' everythin'? An' if you're plannin' on callin' your girl or whatever then I totally promise I won't listen in – like – I'll probably just go and hang out in the corner, nothin' too weird man, m' not into that shit."

Roman isn't sure what _shit_ he means exactly but decides pretty rapidly it's best not to ask, which then leaves him with the simple dilemma of how in the world to turn the man down. After all, it isn't like he can actually have Dean _in_ there, because if that happens then he won't have the freedom to put in the call, but at the same he's not sure he can stand the reaction of shaking his head or shooing his cellmate off.

Either way, standing blinking blankly isn't helping and so Roman lifts a hand to scratch at his neck, his usual eloquence up and cutting out on him as he searches for an answer to diffuse the thing,

"Uh, listen – ,"

Dean's face falls a country mile and it's like someone has stabbed him right in the heart, his big blue eyes flooding with a wash of embarrassment as he starts to wave his hands like somehow his intentions have been misunderstood.

"No man, c' mon, I mean it's fine an' whatever – I'll just go and hang out somewhere else for a while. Like, I got a whole _ton_ of people I can stop by an' chill with so it isn't a thing – ,"

He is still sort of blathering on like a psychopath and refusing to make eye contact when Roman reaches out and throws him a smile as he drags him through the doorway by the shoulder of the bright and unforgiving orange prison suit.

"Come on uce."

"Yeah?"

Dean's smile makes it worth it, even as the bigger man is kicking himself and trying to figure out how he is going to keep his cover, but he's grinning as well because he's made the right choice.

Luckily, the copper blonde is as good as his word though, because Dean falls right down into one of the seats and then props his feet up, leaning back lazily and trying to keep busy by pickings his nails. Roman blows a breath out –

 _Here goes nothing_.

He picks up the payphone, swipes his card and then dials.

Hunter answers not three rings later but he seems to know instantly who the call must be from, because his voice is gruff but no less clued into things as he rumbles the familiar _real world_ surname loose,

"Reigns?"

"Hey mom, how's everything going?"

Roman has to practically force the words out and his boss' responding silence, while reasonable, is like torture because he has literally just called the guy that pays his bills _mom._

Hunter clears his throat,

"Is there someone there with you?"

"Uh huh, I'm hanging out with my roommate – it's all cool."

Dean lifts up his scruffy head at the mention and then throws the bigger man a chirpy little grin, like he is thrilled at having a part in the conversation and which gives over the impression that he is more often forgotten about.

Damn.

Hunter blows a steadying breath out and more than likely rubs his eyes again, but he manages to take back control pretty quickly in a way that underlines why he is the department captain.

"Okay, so I'll do most of the talking which is fine because there's plenty to fill you in on – ,"

Roman nods back,

"Go ahead mom, I'm listening."

Dean tips his chair back on the far side of the room, like a naughty kid in class that is ignoring the lesson and then almost pays the price when it overextends. He lets out a curse and then scrabbles for the counter which he manages to grab at the critical point and then hauls the seat back down onto four legs again before gazing across with a rueful looking grin.

Roman snorts.

Idiot.

"Reigns, you still there?"

"Yeah sorry mom, I got a little distracted, what were you saying?"

"Sami Callihan is dead."

" _What_?"

His barked response is a hiss of amazement which is accompanied by an actual shiver through his bones and Dean cocks his head to one side and frowns across at him before mouthing two words in concern,

 _You alright_?

Roman blinks but keeps his face steady as he throws his cellmate a succinct little nod, like he is simply reacting to some family type drama and not the expiration of the other man's best friend.

Hunter continues gravely,

"He never made it out of there, had an allergic reaction according to the records."

"From what?"

Roman keeps his eyes glued tight to Dean the whole time, like he is worried the copper blonde might potentially overhear or possibly infer it through some sort of prison osmosis or else the mildly shaken look on the bigger man's face.

Fortunately though Dean is back to being idle and is busying himself by twisting one of the phone cords round and round, seemingly trying to tangle the thing completely or else make some bizarre sort of shape from the coil.

Hunter is flapping through pages in the background and leafing through what is likely the death papers he thinks and it makes the bigger man shut his eyes briefly and imagine the moment he has the share that news out.

Dean will be crushed.

"Looks to be some sort of sleep medication, they think he mixed it with something else."

"Which we know isn't true from what I already told you."

"The fact that they were holding the meds back?"

"Uh huh."

In response to the firm and unflinching affirmation, the police captain blows out a weary sounding breath, which is followed by the noise of his leather back chair creaking as he leans against it and makes it shift beneath his weight.

"His name never came up when we were going through the records because we were only looking at the suicide list but maybe we need to cast the net wider and pull out all deaths, by hanging or not."

Roman lets his gaze slide over to his cellmate who is still busy tangling the phone cords about and is trying to figure how tight he can make one before it cuts the blood to his thumb tip completely off. It probably isn't a sensible experiment but at the very least it means that his attentions are drawn, so Roman leans himself into the receiver and hisses out a sentence,

"We might have another one."

Hunter growls,

"Do you have a name?"

"Nickname, he went by Road Dogg."

"I'll see what I can do."

Roman pinches his eyelids in the silence and then listens to his captain scribble the new lead down, before likely pitching the thing out through the doorway and towards the officers working beyond. It's a visual that makes him softly snort in amusement and the grunted noise draws the sharp blue eyes of Dean, who looks up quickly then lets the phone cord snap back again in a violent little manoeuvre that twangs across the little shelf. Evidently he is starting to get a little bored by the waiting which he then further underlines by starting to tap-tap in the absent little gesture he doesn't realize he's doing but which draws a look of absolute murder from an inmate who is stationed at a payphone two booths down.

Roman winces –

He probably needs to hurry and so clears his throat and tries to sound bright, remembering he is pretending to be talking to his mother and that a low sort of muttering is probably not quite right. Besides which there is one more thing that needs addressing and that the bigger man has been busily thinking about. He isn't even sure if what he wants is even possible but if he doesn't ask his boss then he knows he won't find out.

"No mom, I still haven't been given my job yet, but I'm hoping for something like cleaning I guess. Maybe in the offices where the staff and the warden work – might be good to get out of here for a little bit."

Not to mention that it might be perfect in terms of what he is supposed to find out, because what better way to strike right at the heart of it than by having a real reason to be where the files are?

Hunter responds quickly,

"Reigns, I'll get right on it, see if I can't quietly pull a few strings."

"Thanks mom, I really appreciate you trying."

His boss sounds amused,

"Don't mention it _son_."

Luckily it is the older man that chooses to hang the phone up, which is a blessing because it means that Roman can sit there for a while and gather his senses while still pretending to be listening since his head is spinning wildly with a bunch of new _stuff_ and not least of which is the information about Callihan, which he knows he will have to reveal at some point.

In the future though, _way_ off in the future.

But nevertheless –

"Hey, you done?"

Dean springs to his feet like some sort of bunny, positively itching to be on the move again and holding himself a little too tightly and which is something that he does when they're not in their cell. In many ways it's like he's waiting to be set on which Roman figures is a brutal life lesson that his chirpy new friend has learnt the hard way at some point and it makes the bigger man flood with defensiveness and much more inherent sort of _brotherly_ vibes.

He nods,

"All good uce."

Except for the fact it isn't and possibly might not ever be again, because not only is he deep undercover in prison but he is carrying another secret.

 _Your best friend is dead_.

* * *

 **Next chapter Dean pulls out all the stops to celebrate Roman's first week inside, although his efforts bring some interesting results!**


	7. Prison Wine

**So, Roman is celebrating his first week inside in this one and Dean is super keen for them to commemorate it somehow. Some more bonding and background info in this one but the drama is coming in a big way, I promise!**

 **Guest (Hayley I'm thinking) If there's one thing you can be sure of in my stories, then it's that Deano will take a knock at some point and Roman (and Seth if he's there) will freak out about it. Got some protective Roman coming soon and then lots and lots more after that!**

 **Mandy, Aww, I'm super glad you liked it and that you found our boy so cute in that last one. I figure that Dean would be the worst person to ask to still for any length of time. Lucky Roman is so patient I suppose! Thank you for the compliments on my writing, I've gone all bashful!**

 **KiaraKitty08, Hello there *waves* Glad you're enjoying it and the good news (I hope) is that there is still plenty more to come with this story with lots of drama and twists and turns too. But first Dean needs to be Dean a little bit more...like in this chapter!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you and I will keep it up, I promise. Enjoy Roman and Dean celebrating his first week inside though even if Dean is not quite the party planner he thinks he is!**

 **Skovko, Yep, I just felt that Roman didn't have enough secrets to sit on and things to remember not to say so that I thought I would throw another one at him (sorry Roman). Trust me, the truth will come out eventually (except not R-Truth this time unfortunately!)**

 **Cheryl24, I know, poor Dean, not only is he stuck in prison but I then kill off his best friend as well. I'm so mean to him sometimes. But, on the plus side while he might have lost his best friend, he has found a brother to look after him. Swings and roundabouts maybe?**

 **Minnie1015, Haha, glad you liked the part with Dean and the phone cord. I have a friend who cannot sit still and is always getting herself into trouble and I imagine that he is totally the same. Love that you pick up on those little bits by the way, makes me happy!**

 **Cherry619, Yeah, from this point on Dean is sort of glued to his side except when they can't physically be which might become a problem in a chapter or two...but first it's the big celebration or at least as Dean can make it in prison, which isn't very big at all!**

 **KyanaM, I cannot think of anything worse than having to call your boss mom, so I feel Roman's pain and embarrassment there! Yep, plenty of drama further down the line when the truth about Roman and Sami comes out, but you'll have to keep reading to find out when and what!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, I think it's safe to say the solitary confinement is not the happiest or healthiest place to be but I won't say any more than that. Roman's work assignment gets mentioned in this one, then in a couple of chapters we get an even closer look.**

 **Stingerette1975, Roman's mom card is pretty much going to go wild in this story as are his big brother and badass cards respectively too. But yeah, Dean will be crushed at some point, not going to tell you when though or how or even if they can patch things back up (evil laugh).**

 **Guest, Thanks, glad that you're still enjoying it, hope you like this chapter too. Dean tries his best to be a good friend!**

 **Ohana1337, Yeah, Dean will be so upset when he finds out the truth that he will need lots and lots of hugs, which is probably why it's lucky that we're both on standby! Still, Roman will need hugs too because the poor guy is caught between a rock and a hard place after all!**

 **Daisysakura, Oh the drama indeed (because you know it's coming at some point in this story, even if I refuse to say when!) Aww, I felt bad for always making Hunter so mean so I figured I would be good to him here, but yeah, heel Hunter is the best type mostly!**

 **Here comes a prison party then, sort of...**

* * *

 **Prison Wine**

For the next week they fall into a little routine of sorts which carries them through the identically long days. Dean gets up early and goes off to the kitchens and then Roman swings by near the end of his shift to force in another god awful helping of oatmeal before they head off together to do a handful of things. Running laps in the yard is one pastime for example and another is hitting the television room although the choices for viewing aren't particularly inspiring and they are both keen to avoid confrontations for the remote. In the end therefore they usually find themselves library bound or reading in the relative safety of their cell, which is comfortable enough but inescapably boring.

No wonder mental health issues in prisons are so high.

By the sixth day in Roman finds himself wondering whether there is even a police case for them to follow at all, because frankly he can see someone who has been locked up forever just upping and choosing to take the easy way out.

He stops thinking that way pretty quickly however because –

 _No_.

Dean knew his former cellmate too well and even the man who had been shouting in the chow hall had been utterly positive about the health of his friend, besides which something just _feels_ like it's rotten and it isn't his decision in any case to bail out and so he sucks in a breath and determines to keep his head down and see through the mission like he promised that he would.

But god is he going to want a promotion, or a raise or maybe a _medal_ of some sort.

If there is one small positive to the whole thing however – because he figures that there has to at the very _least_ be one – then it is definitely the fact that all the time spent in Dean's company allows a true kinship and honest to goodness _bond_ form. Dean loosens up almost hour by hour and slowly begins to share details about his crappy life.

Never too openly though –

He isn't like that.

Instead he sort of _tosses_ random stories and facts out and often when he figures that Roman isn't listening or when they're deep in the middle of something else, like jogging around the cold yard perimeter or laying back head first and page deep in separate books and in return Roman is careful to not react to the statements as if Dean is some animal he's trying not to scare off.

"We went to some museum when I was in school once but I totally couldn't see – like – a single fuckin' thing 'cos I had two black eyes, so everythin' was kinda fuzzy."

Or –

"I nearly burned the house down once, my mom had been gone for – like – ten days or whatever an' I was gettin' bored of only havin' potato chips to eat, I figured I could maybe heat up some pasta, but turns out you need water 'stead of cookin' 'em neat."

Mostly they are just vague and idle little statements and never an autobiographical blow by blow, but they slowly mount up until they paint a vivid picture and although there are still great big patches of missing color, the portrait of his life still comes together pretty well.

It isn't a particularly happy picture either –

Dean has had things pretty rough and _then_ some.

But in spite of that, when Roman's one week anniversary of having reluctantly shuffled in comes up, the copper blonde still manages to throw them a party –

Like an actual, _genuine_ party of sorts.

It starts with him hustling his ass into their cell room having returned from wherever he had taken himself off and which had frankly in itself been a pretty damn weird thing since he usually hung near Roman like a dog.

He's hiding something beneath the waistband of his issue pants and for a second the bigger man is a little cautious about what it is, since its size and placement is decidedly unsettling and doesn't blend too well with the copper blonde's wide grin.

"Uh, uce? Do I wanna know what that is?"

Dean pulls it out with an actual _ta da_ and then holds it aloft so that it swishes in the halogens and turns the beams into little rainbows of light.

Huh?

He is holding a bag of thick yellow liquid that looks a whole lot like bodily fluids and so for a second Roman merely blinks back in bewilderment and tries to work out what to say.

"Is that – ,"

Dean grins,

"C' mon man, I know I'm kinda crazy but m' not freakin' pissin' into plastic bags just yet – it's pruno."

"It's what?"

" _Prison wine_."

Roman falters and then takes a look at the bizarre concoction again which possibly _does_ have an alcoholic tinge to it the more he actually studies the swirling thing, although whether or not he wants to drink it is debatable and probably unwise at best, since he figures it might land both of their loaded hides in confinement on the provision that it doesn't turn either one of them blind first.

"Where did you get that?"

"There's always someone brewin' somewhere."

"Alright _why_ did you get that?"

"For your first week anniversary man, not gonna let that go by without a party an' this right here is the only real way I know how, plus – y' know – we're kinda in prison, so it's not like we can go for a night on the town."

He crosses the room with the sloshing bag of pruno and then places it carefully between the beds on the nightstand before opening up not one but two cans of soda which he proceeds to then pour in their entirety down the plug. Initially it seems like a slight waste of cola since cans in prison don't really come cheap, but the bigger man is far too mesmerized to stop him and so simply sits in silence, blankly looking on.

Dean waves a hand,

"Go watch out for the guards uce."

Roman blinks.

Did he just say _uce_?

Regardless though he levers himself from the mattress and then hovers on the threshold trying his best to look cool or at least like nobody that people will want to talk to, which his dark brows and tattoo always manage pretty well.

Nobody is moving about much below the mezzanine, because they're getting pretty close to being locked down again and so people are mostly floating back to their cell rooms or stretching out the last bit of relative freedom that they have.

Even so there are still prison guards moving about lazily and since he isn't really keen for his cellmate to get caught he cannot hold back his slightly terse sigh of thankfulness at the sound of the copper blonde's gruff tones.

"'Kay it's done."

Dean is holding up two cans of soda but even from where he's standing the smell is _all_ wrong and Roman wrinkles his nose up on instinct because the prospect of actually drinking the concoction frankly seems to be getting worse and worse.

"What the hell is in that?"

Dean shrugs idly,

"Whatever they can lay hands on most of the time – like – fruit cocktail mostly, bread, ketchup that shit."

"Ketchup?"

"Yeah – I mean – we're in _prison_ here man."

He hands one of the cans across the space in between them and purely from that the fact that's he looking so damn proud, his bigger roommate takes it with a grumble and then watches as the copper blonde chugs a ton down.

His face says it all,

"How is it tasting?"

"Holy _shit_ uce."

"That good huh?"

But the real point of note is the fact the younger man used the word _uce_ and as easily as if he has been always been saying the thing and it makes the long haired Samoan grin back at him because he likes the fact that it is being used at all. He shakes his head and then tips back the soda can, letting a splash of the pruno hit his tongue at which point he then rapidly wishes he hadn't because as he has expected, the taste is _not_ good.

He coughs,

"Shit dog – ,"

Dean laughs loudly and weirdly he is still busy chewing his gum which likely hasn't helped the overall tanginess but which the quirky individual can't seem to go without.

"I know, it sucks right?"

"Does it always taste like ass or – ?"

His reply is a casual shrug,

"Mostly, yeah."

"You do this often then?"

Dean shakes his head at him and it makes the fluffy little bangs swing back and forth. He crosses to the beds and then settles himself lazily with his back pressed up tight against the white wall and already Roman can see a blush creeping across his cheekbones that hints at how big a mouthful his crazy roommate has tried to take.

"Nah uce, this kinda stuff is plain fuckin' trouble, one way ticket back down to solitary, y' know?"

"Sami end up there too?"

Roman doesn't mean to say it but the question sort of slips out over his tongue and he tenses a little bit as Dean reacts to it with a startled looking blink and then a slow nod of his head.

He takes himself another gulp of pruno,

"Yeah, he did."

"I'm sorry man."

Dean shrugs,

"It's whatever – I mean – that's just the way it goes, right?"

"Prison?"

His copper blonde cellmate grunts,

" _Life_."

Roman assumes he isn't trying to wound him but in spitting out the word it drives a stake through his big heart because it is yet _another_ thing to file away into the compendium of messed up shit that Dean has had to endure. Roman thinks back again to the line about his mother having been away and leaving him for days and then the simple fact he has never mentioned a father and in an instant more and more pieces of puzzle make sense. Most notably the way Dean likes to stay close to him or has taken so readily to using the word uce, because he knows it means _brother_ and that it therefore means family which is evidently a concept he has never known much.

Roman smiles warmly,

"Well, your ass has got me now."

Dean tries to brush off the _feelyness_ with a snort and then takes another pretty big glug of pruno which he more than likely will then live to regret. Roman on the other hand only sips lightly since he knows that he probably needs to keep himself sharp or at the very least try to avoid being hungover the night before his very first day of prison work. He had been given his assignment letter hours beforehand and had blinked at the paperwork in both relief and pure shock because either his boss had pulled some strings after all, or else they had been blessed by no small amount of luck.

 _Roman Reigns, Housekeeping_.

It is honestly too perfect –

It is the one role in the place that will get him in and out and more importantly than that, give him access to the filing rooms and the records and maybe even the evidence they need.

Dean folds himself heavily down onto the pillows, nearly spilling the rest of his drink. His blue eyes look bleary with alcohol exhaustion, which is probably the result of not having had any in months but there is an actual dreamy expression on his features like he's happy and so the bigger man figures it isn't too bad.

"Tell me 'bout your fam'ly uce, bet you grew up in a nice big house."

Roman nods back at him,

"Yeah, I was lucky."

"M' not – I ended up with a whole lotta shit."

Dean grunts roughly in amusement as he says it but the noise is by no means a chirpy little sound, being instead driven solely by years of resentment and probably with good reason based on the snippets Roman has heard. He reaches a hand across the gap in between them and places it over the other man's knee and Dean looks up at him with blinks of exaggeration because he has managed to get blitzed almost impossibly quick.

"Hey, it's not too late to change things around uce."

"Nah, that ship sailed 'long time ago big man."

Roman shakes his head,

"I ain't about to believe that."

"C' mon, I've got _nothin'_ dude."

"Well, you've got me."

His sentiments come out a little cutesier than he intends them, but he still means every word of the sentence nevertheless, because partly he figures that he will find it impossible _not_ to become attached to the man, but mostly because his friend needs looking after and he makes the cop feel weirdly brotherly and warm.

Dean grins back at him lazily,

"Fuckin' teddy bear – an'body ever tol' your ass that b'fore?"

"Not if they wanted to live."

Dean snorts roughly, then shuts his eyes and settles himself down. Behind him there is a warning beep and then a loud grating clatter as the cell doors shut and lock for the night, but by which time the younger man is already snoring and it makes the big man grin,

"That's gonna hurt in the morning uce."

* * *

 **Roman is right, it really does but not only that, Dean has another problem or possibly at least the beginnings of one…place your bets on what that is!**


	8. Hungover In Prison

**I think the title says it all for this chapter but there is a little twist at the end too as we move into this story further and further...trouble is brewing!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, He probably does have a dark side, but luckily this chapter mostly releases his nauseous side instead...or, well, not luckily for Dean I guess. Cute but sorrowful. I like that explanation. I think he mostly tries to sound super blase about things but totally fails (awww!)**

 **Cheryl24, Oh wow, interesting theory about them both being cops, but sadly my brain never thought that intensely so in this one Dean is actually simply Dean who made a few mistakes and landed in prison. But you may or may not be right about Bray…**

 **KyanaM, But Dean was happy hurt in the last chapter, I mean, he had his boy and some (horrible) booze so that was a good thing right? But yeah, he might be feeling it in this one! Aww, so glad you like their slow burn bromance, their friendship is simply the cutest thing in real/TV life.**

 **Mandy, Agreed, 2014-2015 was peak Roman and Dean time where it felt like it was the two of them against the world. That is totally what inspired this story so I'm totally glad it took you back to that! Plus thank you a second time for your wishes for my mum *hugs***

 **SkittlezLvr79, Buzzards huh? Now what would give you that idea *wink*. I think the thought of Dean trying to throw a party anywhere is an interesting one, so in prison was simply too good to pass up and yep, nice to give them a moment before things turn…**

 **Stingerette1975, Dean is kind of feeling a little rough in this one (see the chapter title for a hint on that) but I may or may not throw a little something added his way too besides the spells of nausea because I'm totally mean. All will be clear by the end but not in a good way!**

 **Skovko, Dean likes to pretend that he doesn't need anyone and he doesn't care about his past but I totally agree he is super lonely and needs to latch onto someone, yay for the big dog! Thanks for your happy dance for my mum by the way, we're totally relieved and dancing too!**

 **Hayley1001, Aww, I thought it was you (in a totally non weird way you just get used to how people respond I guess). Thank you for the compliments, sometimes I panic so much about my stories when I'm writing them so it's always lovely to hear they're being enjoyed!**

 **Ohana1337, *Flaps hand in embarrassment* oh stop, but no seriously, thank you so much for the compliment, writing can sometimes be super frustrating for me but I love it regardless! Still, it's always so lovely to hear how much people like my work, makes the hard work totally worth it!**

 **Cherry619, Well the good news is that all (well, in one respect) will become clear at the end of this chapter but with regards to Bray Wyatt I loved both times when he feuded with Dean in both the shield and on the singles side of things, they always had this weird chemistry.**

 **Daisysakura, Well, there will be more fluff and worried Roman as we move into things, but you're totally right that Dean has no one outside that will miss him. Makes him even more of a sad little island (poor baby) but Roman is there now and will be in fully brother mode shortly!**

 **Minnie1015, I think it's safe to say that the two of them have warmed up to each other pretty nicely at this point, which means (and I know you will be happy about this) that any minute now I can move onto the drama, all I need to do is set it up first…**

 **Hungover Dean coming your way...**

* * *

 **Hungover In Prison**

Dean wakes up with the kind of hangover that had once been a feature of his _outside_ prison life and the realization that not having had one for some nearly thirteen months has been a rare bonus of being inside.

The worst thing about it is that he has to suffer through it because he needs the prison dollars so therefore has to get to work and the unenviable task of doling out oatmeal that he knows he will have to fight the urge to hurl his guts up into.

Back when he had been free and living a normal life, he would have probably wiled a hangover away in his bed, beside whichever woman he had picked up the night earlier and who would usually still be there, snoring heavily in some drug infused slumber and making him question what in the hell had gone on.

Being hungover in prison is no picnic –

But at least it saves him the accompanying walk of shame.

Roman is still drawing deep heavy breaths in when the prison doors unlock and open up for the day, totally lost to world like always because _man_ can the big guy sleep like the dead. Callihan had been a light sleeper in comparison and had usually been plagued by nightmares as well, meaning that often Dean had woken to screaming or his smaller friend rolling right out of the bed, covered in sweat and tangled up in the covers like a tiny little child.

He hopes Sami is okay.

Flexing out his limbs he lets loose a little grumble and tries to ignore the fierce pounding in his head, taking a piss and splashing water at his features in the half assed way he usually does and then feeling hugely proud that he doesn't hurl _too_ loudly when the nausea sweeps over him a minute after that. Roman doesn't even stir for a second and nor does he move when his cellmate stumbles out, blinking unhappily into the brightness of the overheads as he traipses the empty mezzanine and then down the vacant stairs.

If he is honest then the best thing about being on breakfast is the fact that he gets the place mostly to himself and only has to contend with the other twelve inmates who have been given the same first light kitchen shift as him. Luckily there aren't any _crazies_ among them and nor is their crew an especially talkative one, which means that he can simply slip in looking pretty ghostly and not draw any questions as he starts doing his thing.

It isn't the most taxing job in his long history of weird and wonderful ways to earn dough –

Including the time he had spent six months as a stripper during the period of his life when he was usually high on drugs and had for some reason decided to dye his hair pink and then wear it in long in a fucking _ponytail_ as well before looking at himself in a rare sober moment and quickly kicking the drugs _and_ the long locks into touch.

He likes to call that his _learning phase_ mostly –

Learning not to be a total dickwad that was.

Fortunately he manages to make it through the prep work without throwing up onto any of the food, including the potatoes he is forced into peeling because the weekend means hash browns and heavily fried stuffs, including bright eggs which honestly make his guts churn and so he silently installs himself beside the oatmeal spoon.

Nice plain oatmeal –

He can cope with its pallor and probably doesn't look too dissimilar himself in tone, which is why he stays there until the main doors open and the first inmates wander in looking for their grub, clutching the ladle in clammy hungover fingers like his actual life might depends on the hold. He is no damn mood for being conversational. Not that he _ever_ particularly is but especially not with agony drilling hard behind his eyeballs and his stomach lodged high at a point in his throat. He just wants to make it through the next two hours then stumble back to curl up into his bed.

Easy right?

Like the world is that simple –

Because when he looks up not five minutes later it is to two large figures looming over the sneeze guard and giving him dual and expressionless looking death glares which instantly make his temper flare.

"What?"

His entire face crumples as he fires the word out and he spits it with all of the distaste that he has and in response to the missive, the bearded apes both snort back at him and fix their intensity a little bit more.

Luke fucking Harper and Erick fucking Rowan –

Proverbial flies in his proverbial soup and probably the two people in the whole of the prison with whom he would gladly choose to take on in a fight if it meant wiping off the two smug ass expressions that they always turned so willingly at him and the knowing little eyes that seem to readily sweep him over like they know a ton of things that the copper blonde never will.

Unlikely.

Dean's fist closes in around the ladle,

"You want somethin' here? Or are you two swamp men just lookin' at a person with regular human hair growth an' tryin' to work out what it must be like not to have to comb out your face?"

Harper grins in a type of amusement but it certainly isn't the standard human kind and instead looks a lot like a recently landed alien trying to master the base emotions of _earthling life_ in a hopeless attempt to blend into the population that he is steadily but surely completely fucking up.

The whites of his eyes flash bright against his skin tone and it makes the other man snarl,

"Fuck off man – _both_ you overgrown bayou monsters, m' not playin' here."

Dean is as close to using fists as he has ever been and it takes all his composure not to throw himself at the sneeze guards and possibly batter the asshole duo with his ladle or try to drown them in the hot oatmeal vat. Luckily however the breakfast line is building with more exponentially bigger and far more hazardous men who begin to shift and shout about the hold up and force the _hair bear bunch_ into reluctantly moving on, which still doesn't stop the pair continuing to fucking _stare_ at him but does at least move them out of his face.

Dean blows a breath out.

 _Fucking prison_.

He can't wait to finish his sentence and then take himself away, to his long dreamed of log cabin in the woods someplace where no one bothers him and he can be on his own with the exception of maybe a totally kickass hound dog.

Kujo –

No, maybe Yeller.

That would totally be its name.

Roman shuffles slowly into his line of vision perhaps three minutes later with his deep brows tugged in, meaning that he has seen the _swamp brothers_ confrontation and more than that, is pretty unimpressed,

"Uce, you okay?"

"Yeah, nothin' I can't handle."

"You sure about that?"

"C' mon – I mean – _look_ at me man."

Dean makes a show of flexing his muscles but he's also grinning inanely as well, because it is honestly so good having someone asking after him and who he knows without a shred of a doubt truly _cares_. Having a new cellmate is always a tense thing and in his year long stint he has already had three, but in the bigger man he finally has an actual buddy who is chilled out and protective and totally _gets_ him.

Roman snorts wryly,

"How are you feeling?"

He clearly means after their session last night and in response the younger man shakes his head hastily and then lets out a groan as he slams shut his eyes,

" _Ugh_ – ,"

"That good, huh?"

"Don't let me drink that shit again."

"Does that mean you want me to pour the rest away? Because – I don't know uce – I'm kinda thinking we should hold onto some in case they need to make an antidote at some stage."

Brown eyes flicker across the sneeze guard in merriment which then promptly doubles as the copper blonde curls up a lip and then throws his own blue orbs to the ceiling which fixate on the halogens and really fucking hurt,

"Haha – _ow_."

Roman chuckles softly then holds the tray out to him in a silent request for a helping of gruel, which Dean knows the bigger man hated on his first taste but has seemingly grudgingly warmed to since then. Not that it will stop him from snagging up some bacon and possibly a hash brown or egg on top but then Roman _does_ have a big day ahead of him considering he is going to be starting his job and more than that it's exactly what he wanted.

Evidently at least one of them has a rare bit of luck.

Dean daubs down a tacky splotch of oatmeal and then looks up with a chirpy type of a grin, because he isn't a resentful sort of a person, besides which he only wants good things for his big friend. Including having a relatively easy time of it since prison isn't exactly a fucking _cake walk_ and particularly since the other man shouldn't _be_ there for something as basic as defending himself.

"Hey, good luck man, I'll see you later?"

Roman nods back at him,

"Sure thing uce."

However that is pretty much all they can manage before the press of hungry inmates and risk of brawling ramps up and so they simply exchange a sort of manly nod of parting and then head off their own solitary separate ways, with the bigger man going to try and tame his tacky oatmeal and Dean going off to throw up into the trash and basically ignore the potential hygiene hazard because honestly he feels too rough to give a shit.

" _Never_ again."

By the time his breakfast shift ends he somehow feels _worse_ than he had done before, to the point where perhaps the antidote thing is actually viable and it makes him debate whether or not he's been poisoned right the way back towards the safety of their cell. Shuffling through the door he heads straight for the mattress and face plants down onto it which is a _terrible_ idea, because the motion shakes his tantrum throwing stomach and makes him groan,

"Fuck, c' mon, not again, m' sorry I swear no more 'a that shit ever – ,"

But unfortunately for him straight up begging doesn't work and is the reason he is still hunched over the toilet when he hears the shuffling of feet outside the door and then sees the light in the room flicker slightly as someone big slowly steps into the room.

"Roman?"

It seems like a reasonable assumption since neither of them exactly have hordes of close friends, or at least not to the point where people pay the visits because the bigger man is still a newbie while Dean is not that sort of guy.

Dark tones chuckle back at him,

"'Fraid not boy but be honest now – didn't you miss me?"

Dean feels his body freeze up at once and he fumbles to wipe away the spit from his heaving because it _has_ to be a trick of the mind, or else totally some sort of weird ass side effect from having drunk potentially life-threatening homemade booze and therefore it cannot be real for a second but he has to check and –

Fuck, there he is.

His crazy ass beard seems wilder and longer than when he had unhappily laid eyes on him last, but is totally still set beneath the piercing little eyeballs and that eerie damn smile that makes his heart freeze right up and sends a bolt of panic through his system and sends a red warning bell tolling loudly in his head and he blinks in total and utter astonishment with one thought on repeat.

Bray Wyatt is back.

* * *

 **Hell to the yeah!**

 **Next chapter Roman meets two brand new characters (but not new to us...any calls on who I have possibly camoed this time are welcome) plus he takes the next step in his mission.**

 **Lots a' happenin' then!**


	9. Mankind

**In this one then we have two new characters although technically we've heard about one before but the other is new to this story and I love him so I hope you do too *crosses fingers and toes***

 **KiaraKitty08, Haha, no, no, please feel free to fantasize about Roman, I mean, what's the point of putting the man in some new threads otherwise? Besides, if anyone could pull off an orange jumpsuit then it would have to be the big man right?!**

 **Hayley1001, Never fear fellow angst girl because the good times are coming (with that said though please don't hit me for this chapter, because I promise you'll like the next one more and the ones after that too). Never will there be a more bromancy story than this one (except all my others!)**

 **Daisysakura, Yeah, I'm really being mean to Dean here. Not only is his hated nemesis back and has him cornered but I chose to have him all hungover and puking too...but then, gotta raise the tensions somehow right? Roman will be pissed...eventually!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you muchly, really sweet, hope you enjoy a little delve into the police mission in this chapter. As ever, please enjoy!**

 **Minnie1015, Haha, Gallows and Anderson do seem like the prison type (not sure they would agree there but hey ho). Not them though, sorry! Yep, throwing up sucks and especially if you happen to be on your knees in prison with your mortal enemy stood over you. I'm too mean!**

 **Mandy, Agreed, you can really tell that they love working with each other in the ring because they loosen up and seem to have so much fun and I love seeing them like that. Plus it inspired me to write all these stories. Life imitates art I guess...or is that other way around?!**

 **Stingerette1975, Nice guesses (very nice in fact) but nope, not either of them. Except now I can't get the image of Paul Heyman in prison out of my head. I imagine he would have a really plush cell with silk wall hangings and a big screen TV and a four poster bed squashed in, lol!**

 **Cheryl24, Aww, yay, I'm super glad, got plenty more to come too and lots of twists and turns and besides which we can't forget the police mission that Roman is working on. More on that in this chapter.**

 **Skovko, Yep, Bray just sauntered in like he always does and is looking to cause trouble (because we know it's coming right?) Nice guess with Braun but not in this case, besides which for once not all of my cameos and new characters are necessarily bad…**

 **Squeegee Beckinhime, Oh yep, I'm ramping up the tension and it's only going to get bigger and better as we go (I'm such a tease) but first I'm giving you a little bit of Roman (and impatient waiting) because the boy still has a mystery of his own to try and solve.**

 **KyanaM, I know, I mean how much can I still have to put the poor boy through (rhetorical question because the answer is a** _ **lot**_ **) but on the plus side Roman will be there pretty much throughout with his usual worried/protective act, so strap in and enjoy!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Bray is actually just doing Bray in this story. We're going to have multiple villains but they are actually all working independently of one another. It's just an unlucky swirling mass of bad guys in this one but then, I mean, they are in prison so what do they expect?!**

 **Cherry619, Bray Wyatt means trouble. Always has and always will. Awww, I would love to put Bo in every story but mixing him into different universes would make everything confusing as hell so I think for now he will just have to brighten up the police AUs only.**

 **Roman's first day on the job...**

* * *

 **Mankind**

Roman reports to the heavily secured doors where the cell wing opens back onto the _normal_ world, in a move that draws murderous looks from the other inmates and also makes his heart pound pretty darn hard. Because although he's only been inside for a week in total the prospect of a change of scenery is exciting to say the least.

 _Freedom_.

Sort of –

He can almost damn near _smell_ it and so he stands and submits to a pat down by the prison guards before being grudgingly ushered over and out and into a new and similarly painted plain length of hallway that seemingly leads to where the offices are.

The guard who is taking him spends the whole time talking or else damn near _lecturing_ him about the magnitude of the job but which Roman listens to only very vaguely as he drinks in their location and tries to mind map their route.

Maybe one day knowing it will come in handy?

The prison guard coughs again and then sharply clears his throat,

"Most of the guys here would kill for this assignment so if you screw it up there are plenty of others to take your place, so you don't talk to or make eyes at anyone in the offices and at no point do you touch _anything_ you're not cleaning, is that clear?"

Roman glares back at him eerily coolly,

"Crystal clear boss."

"Good, keep it like that."

There is more to it than that but Roman quickly stops listening because frankly the ticking-off is pretty wasted on him, since he isn't actually a _real_ hardened criminal and – being an undercover policeman – is therefore unlikely to want to steal. Roman isn't sure if he will actually ever be able to reveal the truth of who he is, but if the opportunity presents itself at some point then the grumbling guy in front of him is the person he wants to tell.

 _Ass_.

Together they make their way into the offices which since it's a weekend are totally void of life, with the exception of a guy bent over in one corner who is whistling cheerfully and emptying trash cans but who stops and grins as they move in towards him and then straightens himself up.

He's a hella big guy –

Not so much in height for the most part, since Roman figures they must be about the same length, but he is built in terms of his figure like a solid looking beach ball and with more wild hair mass than he has seen in his life, lying short but thick on his chin and around his features and then growing like a bush on the top of his head and sitting so floppily that it hangs across his eyebrows and means that he has to cheerfully flip it back,

"Roman, right?"

"Uh huh."

He puts a broad hand out and the man waddles across and then seizes it up, pulsing his entire damn arm like a water pump but in a non-threatening way that makes him likeable at once.

"Mick Foley, I'm glad to have you on the team man."

He follows it up with a welcoming shoulder pat, which is actually more like being hit by a wrecking ball but is also pretty affable for all of its clumsy force.

Roman nods,

"Uh, thanks for having me – so what exactly is it you want me to do here?"

The answer to that one is neither glamorous nor hard since it is basically a pretty standard housekeeping type deal and so mostly comprises vacuuming the carpet and dusting down the desk tops and emptying the trash, but even so Roman finds he actually enjoys it because it sure as hell beats sitting around doing nothing all day long and nor is his new work colleague a chore to have to be around since he actually seems to be a pretty neat guy.

Throughout it all though, the grouchy prison guard stays with them and watches them both like the living embodiment of a hawk, which means that it will be damn near impossible to sneak away from him to do the snooping he knows he has to attempt.

Maybe not on his very first day though.

Instead he tries to look like he's just doing his work and making sure to stick to the afore lectured parameters of not touching anything that he doesn't have to clean and not talking to some of the few staff members who are still busy working even on the weekend.

Mick talks however –

Mick talks a _whole_ lot.

"Do you mind me asking what you're in this place for? I'm here because I have this impulse control thing that makes me need to smash stuff up, like car doors and brick walls and anything solid and for the most part I like to use my head."

Roman blinks,

"Your head?"

"I tend to run into things or throw myself off stuff – I like the rush of it I guess – but the last thing I hit with my head was a police car and then there was this whole _mail box thing_."

He flaps his hands like it isn't important and fills the younger man with a million weird thoughts, not to mention the image of his crazy haired colleague running head first screaming across people's front lawns and taking out their neatly placed little suburban mail posts like some out-of-control lightly lumbering horse.

"Uh, that's – different."

Mick grins,

"Oh it's that alright, I'm the only one like me in the whole of mankind."

Roman snorts softly and then steps a little closer under the guise of moving the black trash bag in, but at the same time waiting for their guard to blow a breath out and for the first time that morning briefly yawn and look away.

He keeps his voice low but as casual as he can make it,

"So is it our job to clean inside the warden's room as well man or – ?"

"Sometimes sure, but you have to _earn_ that, they're pretty choosy about who they let do that part of it."

"Like you?"

Mick grins,

"Who else do you think?"

He seems ridiculously proud of the achievement and since there is little enough self to show off in prison except for potentially the number of people a man has killed, Roman can't help but count his few blessings that he has once again seemingly found a crazy but _non-deadly_ friend. Besides which, if Foley is curious about the question then he makes the decision not to let on and it emboldens the undercover man to probe a little further since it's the best opportunity he's been given so far.

"I'm guessing the warden's room is full of files and what not – can't be much fun to keep 'em clean huh?"

Mick shakes his head,

"No, they have a different room for that stuff, he just keeps a few important files locked in his desk."

"Well now, is that so?"

Roman lingers on the answer and then briefly debates what _important_ might mean and whether that would include any prisoners who are a nuisance or need prescription medication or else a trip to solitary and also whether the warden might be crazy or _ballsy_ enough to keep the proof in such an obvious a place as his own desk?

Probably not.

It is a thought however that he is still mulling over an hour or so later as they weave their way out over the office floor, turning in the corridor to head back towards the cell wing in a way that signals his first day of work is done. Mick is bumbling and still whistling in front of him to the point where Roman wonders if it is maybe a subconscious thing and driven by the mass amounts of head trauma he had mentioned or the patrol car he had evidently run into skull first.

Dean seems to be almost normal in comparison –

But he is drawn from his contemplation as a figure rounds the bend and at once the grumbly guard they have been dutifully following freezes with such abruptness that Roman walks right into him and then gets whirled on very briefly in warning and with the ever present gun barrel raised halfway up.

He lifts his hands in contrition and apology,

"Easy man, I'm sorry but you straight up _stopped_."

Mick however is far more cheerful and nor does he pay any mind to the standoff as he instead beams broadly and waves towards the newcomer like he is passing a neighbor who is mowing their front lawn,

"Morning warden."

 _Huh_?

Roman fully shit takes and then peers across the head of the diminutive guard to properly take in the man pacing towards them who is smaller than he had figured but still looks authoritative and sharp. He is wearing the leather jacket that Dean had described to him, like the guy is the bass player in a reformed rock band and has jeans below that in what pretty much _has_ to be the most dressed down business clothes the policeman has ever seen. He has short cropped silver hair and a smattering of facial fuzz in the same pale colors that curl round into a goatee and he carries a sort of air that Roman is no stranger to since it is similar to organized crime guys he's nabbed before.

It sets his instincts rattling instantly.

Eric Bischoff is all kinds of wrong.

In spite of that however as the man draws in closer he stops and flashes the inmate an ear to ear smile of the variety a pack of wolves might give a passing lamb chop although it's possible that Roman is reading too deep into it –

Who the hell knows?

"Foley, how's it going?"

"It's going pretty good sir, I haven't run into anything solid for about six days now."

Mick takes his fingers and raps them hard against his forehead while grinning like it's actually a ground breaking achievement that he hasn't felt the need to brain himself for a week and in response to it Bischoff nods back somewhat evenly and flashes his teeth,

"Hey, well done."

"Uh and this is one of the new guys from the intake – ,"

Mick waves a hand in the younger man's direction and the sharp eyes of the warden flicker swiftly his way and then glint a little as he sucks a deep breath in before offering a hand out,

"Roman isn't it son?"

He smirks as he says it like he is looking to surprise him and generally underline the fact that he is the boss and were it not for years of straight faced police work then the prison newcomer might react to it more, although instead he simply takes the hand firmly and shakes it without blinking.

Bischoff smirks at him,

"So how are you finding life in the big house – your first time isn't it?"

Roman gazes back,

"It is."

"Hope the mindless rabble have been good and pretty welcoming, not too frightening?"

"I'm getting by."

"That's not surprising for a man of your stature, but it's the smaller guys I tend to feel sorry for in here, or the ones that have the more deep rooted issues – you're rooming with Ambrose, isn't that right?"

Roman stiffens.

What the hell does that mean?

He nods back steadily but loads hot fire into his gaze because the silent implication is that somehow Dean is damaged which he isn't about to sit back and take. On the other hand though he is limited in how fiercely he can actually refute what is been said, since the man in front of them runs the whole prison and possibly _potentially_ withholds medication or gets rid of the inmates who try to stand in his way.

He nods instead,

"Sure am."

"How has that been for you?"

"I'm not complaining, I like it just fine."

Bischoff blinks back but then suddenly grins widely although once again the expression doesn't reach up to his eyes and seems to hold a sort of gleeful type of twinkle, like he enjoys trying to push his wayward inmates to the edge.

Maybe that's why so many end up in solitary?

Either way the big man is not joining their ranks.

Bischoff snorts finally,

"Well, I'm pretty glad to hear it. Ambrose is not exactly everybody's poison but he mostly tows the line and I like that in a man. I run a tight ship here and transgressions are punished harshly, but so long as you keep to the rules and are respectful then I think you'll find that you'll be just fine."

Roman bites his tongue hard,

"I'll keep that in mind then."

Bischoff stares back at him,

"Do that son, you do that."

For a second there is a warning and uncomfortable sort of silence in which the short prison warden seems to size the newcomer up, before suddenly smiling and letting off a mild chuckle that he is still blowing out as he pushes his way past.

Mick waves after him,

"See you around warden."

It seems notable that the boss never _once_ looks at the guard, nor seems to have the first idea what his name is and yet knows every last detail about the orange clad men, which is possibly the result of badly trying to lay the law down but somehow feels a little deeper than that. Not to mention the Dean related statement which was _what_ exactly?

Roman doesn't like it at all.

He needs to get back to his cell so he can process and maybe then he can start to figure out what's going on.

* * *

 **Hmmm, the plot thickens huh? But in the meantime, Mick Foley!**

 **Also, I know I'm being mean by making you wait but we're back to Dean next chapter so never fear because I haven't forgotten him, like I could anyway!**


	10. Reconnecting With Old Friends

**Back to Dean then, I know you have all been patiently waiting to find out what's the haps with him and Bray so here we go!**

 **Squeegee Beckinhime, Moi a tease? Surely not. Lol. Yep, I do love my shadowy characters who have to be unravelled piece by creepy piece. Glad I've got you thinking about Bischoff but he's not the only potential danger because in this chapter I'm loading them up!**

 **Hayley1001, Oh yeah, Roman's big brother senses are firing super hard already and the good news is they are practically going to go off the charts in this chapter so I hope you enjoy the angst and brotherhood because you've waited so patiently for it (first of many!)**

 **Cheryl24, His whole creepy sexist boss angle was so totally convincing that I will never be able to see him as a good guy in any context (I'm sure in real life though he's very pleasant). Yeah, super heel and just so icky. Good acting on his part though!**

 **Mandy, Aww, I'm glad you think I caught Mick well. I just always see him as this slightly kooky but really friendly and affable kind of a guy. He's impossible not to like and since R-Truth was only fleeting in this I felt the boys needed at least** _ **one**_ **more friend in there!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, Haha, I'm pretty sure that Mick Foley in this story (and possibly real life too who knows?!) could tell you a thing or two about breaking mailboxes and being arrested. But with that said I genuinely didn't know that...lucky break on my part!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yep, Bischoff is a certainly bizarrely interested in his inmates...time will tell why! As for Mick, I wanted him in there but didn't want him to be a murderer or something too heinous. Then I saw a video of him being whacked with a chair and it all fell into place, lol!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you so much, got more drama for you here because this story is now officially hotting up even though we still have a long way to go!**

 **Guest, Thank you!**

 **Minnie1015, Well, that's not to say that Gallows and Anderson aren't skulking around in the prison somewhere too, in fact I think they probably are but the boys just don't bump into them. Does that work?! Bischoff knows** _ **everyone**_ **and he wants them to know it!**

 **Cherry619, Don't worry, Roman is indeed hurrying (well, sauntering) back to his cell so the drama is totally coming. Aww, I'm glad you like Mick. He always reminds me of a really loopy labradoodle or something and I had so much fun writing him. He's in it quite a bit too!**

 **KiaraKitty08, Haha, well you dream away there and enjoy yourself! Super happy you like Mick in this because he's going to come and go throughout and he's going to be instrumental a couple of times, but I'm not going to say why that is just yet…**

 **Skovko, Heehee, I'm very happy to have made you want to punch Bischoff. I was going for smarmy and obsequious so looks like I scored! Dean and Mick playing board games and punching each other is hilarious. Maybe throw some monopoly and charades in too?!**

 **Stingerette1975, Thanks for the kudos for my chapter title, sadly I even tittered to myself when I wrote it (I don't get out much, what can I say?!) You know I love my bromance/angst parts so will Roman walk back into the Bray Wyatt thing? Um...**

 **Daisysakura, I know, sorry, the chapters are a little shorter in this story because I wanted to keep them like snippets as opposed to my longer rambles! But you are totally right with the whole cake ananolgy and...great, now I want cake (side note: I always want cake!)**

 **Here we go...**

* * *

 **Reconnecting With Old Friends**

Roman sees them the second he pivots the corner after having climbed the stairs two at a time to their cell and he recognizes them too because they're pretty damn obvious in their bright orange uniforms and with their crazy ass hair.

He narrows his gaze and his fists clench tightly,

"There something you two boys are after up here?"

Luke Harper looks across in response and then smiles at him but his eyes are unblinking and so it looks kind of unhinged and makes the air seem to shiver around them because whatever the hell is happening is damn well isn't right.

 _Dean_.

Roman's blood chills fast in his system and a warning alarm goes off in his head, which seems totally misplaced since the two swamp brothers are right in front of him and theoretically should comprise the entirety of the threat –

But they are standing far _far_ too close to the cell door and it strikes the big man that they look like they're standing guard, which is never a good sign in prison _or_ out of it and so he shoves them aside then roughly pushes his way through, the adrenaline starting to pump through his system with a tell tale measure of fear thrown into it as well,

"Uce?"

He positively skids through the doorway, or at least as much as his sizable bulk allows and then freezes in instantaneous bafflement on the threshold as he tries to wrap his head around what is happening beyond.

The hell –

Dean is being pushed up against the locker by someone who has his lapels in his hand and is trying to tighten them fast around his windpipe, while the copper blonde struggles and attempts to heave him off. They are standing practically nose tip to nose tip with the blue eyes sparking up a storm as Dean tries to pry the chubby fingers from his collar and get the other man to back up and give him room. He is grunting too from the frantic exertion, which is getting him pretty much nowhere fast and so before he even knows what the hell he is doing, Roman finds himself moving in like a dart, ploughing across the space in between them and grabbing the newcomer by the back of his shirt and then yanking him back with every muscle in his body in a veritable underarm pitch towards the door.

"Get your _damn_ hands off him."

Roman is seething –

His body is caught in an actual pulsating rage and it fires through his fingers and makes him twitch bodily as he slides into place creating a barrier to his friend and then studying the assailant through a red mist of fury that gets thicker and darker as he drinks the features in.

The man is bulky and blighted with the same hair growth that seems to have also inflicted the still hovering _Brothers Grimm_ in the fact that it is wild and characterized entirely by a long wispy beard that hangs off his chin. Much like Luke Harper the new man is also grinning but he carries a unnatural sort of aura about him too, which could quite possibly be misinterpreted as a type of charisma if the whole damn portrait were not so _skin-crawlingly_ weird.

Roman glowers,

"Who the hell are you?"

Instead all he gets is a wry sounding chuckle which makes the broad shoulders judder,

"You mean you don't know? You haven't heard my name being echoed down the hallways or had it blown into your ear when you're asleep in your bed?"

Behind him Dean is smoothing his shirt out and huffing like he's pissed at the entire damn thing and Roman can't really blame his poor brother since being set on without warning hasn't been part of their routine and particularly not when the _out of nowhere_ attacking is done by an extra from a budget horror film or who has taken his hairstyle from an old eighties rock band like chest length beard hair is a desirable thing.

Dean bites out the answer shortly,

"Bray Wyatt, his name is Bray fuckin' Wyatt."

 _Damn_.

Because this must be the guy who had been referred to as the _cult leader_ and on sheer looks alone that description isn't wrong and must also be why the swamp men are on the mezzanine like a pair of eerie bodyguards.

Their leader has come home.

Roman feels his fists clench tighter and he takes a hot step towards the other man who simply watches him moving in closer with the same self-smug grin stamped in over the whiskered face.

"What the hell do you want with my cellmate?"

"Me? Oh I'm just reconnecting with old friends, catching up on what I missed these last few months."

Dean snorts,

"Apart from how nice it was without you? No _bayou_ stench in the halls if you know what I mean."

Bray's expression tightens instinctively into something a whole lot less kind as the previous amusement slowly lifts off him to be replaced with an expression of unknown intensity that looks murderous at worst and injured at best,

"Now, now boy, that ain't nice talking, don't make me wash your mouth clean out."

"Uce – ,"

Dean knows that his newfound bigger brother is moving before Roman realizes the motion himself since the next thing he registers is the copper blonde in front of him with a hand around his wrist pushing his raised fist back down. There is a deeply warning note to his tone and his expression that he further underlines with a jerk of his head, which carries his gaze towards the silhouetted doorway where a prison guard is standing glaring in at the scene.

"Is there some sort of a problem here gentlemen?"

Bray reacts to him surprisingly fast and with no small amount of irritating false cheer that the undercover cop wants to instantly wipe off,

"Not at all officer, I was just getting reacquainted with two of my oldest buddies over here."

Dean laughs loudly but it isn't from amusement and ends up echoing harshly around the cell in a way that makes them all wince bodily and pours a heap of _bullshit_ over what has just been said.

"Yeah, an' now he's leavin' his _two oldest buddies_ before one of them puts their foot clean up his ass."

In response to the missive the prison guard puts a hand up but resists the urge to use the digits to pinch his eyes and instead waves it wearily in the direction of the haired one like he doesn't have the time or general reserves of patience to repeatedly have to put up with inmate shit,

"Alright Wyatt, out you come now."

Bray grins widely,

"My pleasure officer,"

He tips his hat, or at least he _would_ have done were he actually damn well wearing one but in the interim makes do with lightly miming the gesture, like the eerie guy is dropping his date back home again after a romantic night out at the theatre –

Roman growls.

 _All wrong_ , _all wrong_.

Bray shuffles back but then pauses on the threshold with his hand on the door jamb.

"Be seeing you Dean."

Roman is stepping in towards him in an instant but the wearied prison guard reacts quicker than that, in a turn of pace that startles almost all of them but manages to haul the creepy bayou man off.

For a second after he's gone they continue to stand there, like perhaps they're both waiting for an unexpected reprisal round, but gradually through the general clatter of the cell block, they hear the thud of footsteps heading down the metal stairs and it acts as some sort of a pressure release valve because Dean blows out a sigh and then lets his shoulders relax.

Roman eyes him steadily,

"What the hell _was_ that?"

"You know what it was man – I told you – it's Bray."

Dean pushes past him like the answer is obvious and then moves towards his bed to collect up a book. It is sprawled across the mildly rumpled up covers and Roman guesses that it has somehow been upset in the fight –

Or, okay, not full and proper _fight_ exactly but whatever crazy scenario had just gone down.

But for all of his coolness the copper blonde is far too casual and also refusing to meet his broader cellmate's gaze and Roman knows that the younger man is rattled and he hates that fact fiercely so therefore won't let it go.

"No, that's _who_ is – it sure as hell ain't what happened."

Dean waves a terse hand,

"Then what do you want? I don't know any more than you do right now man. One minute I'm in here barfing like an amateur and then the next, there he is – like – right outta _nowhere_."

Roman sighs heavily and then moves to the doorway before looking out along the mezzanine floor on the mild possibility that someone is stood there, or that one of the swamp beasts has tried to pull a fast one and is hovering around like some _Thing from Beyond_. Luckily however the level is deserted since most folk are spending time out of their cells and so he moves back in and then leans by the lockers before leaning across to flush the vomit away.

Dean grunts his thanks from his position on the mattress where he has sprawled out like a teenager to stare up at the ceiling lights and for a minute or several, neither one of them says anything until Roman clears his throat and tries hard to sound calm,

"I'm going to need the full story this time."

"What full story?"

"About what this is all about."

"It's – ,"

"No dodging this time either babe, you hear me? What exactly does this weird ass Bray Wyatt guy want?"

In response to his question the blue eyes sparkle and then turn in his direction with an amused looking smirk, which voices itself with a note of confusion and the return of genuine humor as well.

"Did you just call me babe?"

"You're avoiding the question."

"Okay _sugarplum_ , what question was that?"

Roman rolls his eyes and drops down onto his own bed but he is loosely fighting back the ghost of a smile nonetheless because the lopsided grinning insolence is oddly reassuring for all that it is covering Dean's obvious uneasiness.

"Uce, come on, I'm gonna need to hear it."

"Hear what?"

"Why this guy is so focussed on you."

Dean snorts back,

"My fabulous bone structure? I mean, I'm like a work of art, y' know?"

"Babe."

It's only one word but it still sounds heavy and the second time around it doesn't draw the same mirth and instead at last manages to break the final wall down since it is followed by a long but resigned sort of low groan,

"Ugh, fine but did anyone ever tell you that you're like some weird _truth nazi_?"

"It's on the top line of my resume."

Dean lifts a brow in an allusion to amusement but then relents to the questioning and pulls himself up, tucking himself back until he is pressed against brickwork and for first time since it all happened, snapping up his blue eyes.

He shrugs,

"Bray thinks we're kindred spirits or somethin' or – I don't know – some crap like that."

"Why?"

"Because we're both damaged or screwed up or _broken_ an' I just – ,"

Roman stops him with a single note,

"Hey."

Dean has gone back to worrying at his hangnail but seemingly without really realizing he has and in the harsh cell lighting he looks paler than ever although whether from the drink or the assault is hard to tell. In spite of that though there is still a grumpy fire, which the bigger man doesn't think that Dean will ever be without and it settles him a little because the one thing he _isn't_ in any way shape or form is broken at all.

The copper blonde drops his hands down onto the bedsheet and then grins up wryly like he's thinking the same thing, before snorting a little and shaking his head against brickwork in a way that implies he finds the whole thing insane.

"Guess he wants to turn me into another swamp beast."

"So is that all it is?"

Roman isn't too sure, because there seems to be something borderline _unhealthy_ and sort of _intense_ bubbling beneath the whole thing, or at least based on the few tiny titbits he has gathered and the brief but messed up meeting with the guy he's just had and it churns a sense of knowing and unsettlement deep inside of him which clearly isn't lost on Dean.

"I don't know man, he's just kinda _touchy_ – tryin' to paw through my hair and that shit, an' like for the most part I think he's just tryin' to rile me but then at others times – ,"

He breaks off with a shrug.

 _I don't know_.

For the first time maybe ever Dean looks mildly frightened, albeit in a gruff and angry sort of way, but regardless it still makes Roman's brow darken and he reacts to it instinctively,

"Hey, uce? You're gonna be okay."

Dean snorts,

"Yeah?"

He doesn't seem to buy it and it's probably little wonder given all that he's been through. But the bigger man is neither kidding nor reassuring him.

He is making a _promise_.

"His ass ain't getting to you again."

* * *

 **Next chapter Bray makes his big return to the prison populace and the boys found out something new which may deepen the case.**


	11. Village Of The Damned

**More protective Roman coming up in this one or maybe that should be adorably protective/panicky Roman?**

 **Skovko, Look at you getting in there first and being top of the list! Haha glad you liked it, I do love me some snarky Dean, plus I felt like I needed a little light moment for them. They probably deserved it!**

 **Squeegee Beckinhime, Aww, thank you *blushes* glad you like the boys' dynamic. I just love writing them together, especially Dean and Roman (even though I'm missing Seth a bit in this one!)**

 **Cheryl24, Oh yeah Bray is upping the crazy because that's what he does best. I honestly think horror movies took their cue from Bray rather than the other way around. He's going to get worse too!**

 **Mandy, Protective Roman is the best and he's so naturally touchy feely with it too. More than happy to keep writing him being a big old teddy bear. Bray is certainly sniffing around and he's keen!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, WWE creative not making more of The Shield vs. the Wyatt boys will always be such a bitter regret because it could have been so much longer/juicier. Least I can make up for it here!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you, got a little more Bray coming up for you here!**

 **Ohana1337, Aww, so glad you love the bromance. I'm such a sucker for these two as best friends who will do anything for each other and I'm missing that soooo bad on TV right now *cries***

 **Minnie1015, Back to work missy! Plenty of protective Roman (and a soupçon of protective Dean) still to come so best stock up on your horrible salty popcorn (sweet rules) as we go!**

 **Stingerette1975, Bray sees Dean as a sort of kindred spirit, someone else who sees the world a little bit differently. In his head Dean is basically a Wyatt except Dean and Roman don't really see it like that!**

 **Hayley1001, Thank you! Writing beaten up Dean and worried Roman will never grow old and hopefully it will keep us all going until we get the real thing back again (crosses fingers, toes and everything between!)**

 **KiaraKitty08, Indeed, things are going to start moving from here on in. Expect drama and angst!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Bray is going to start a slow, steady campaign of winding the boys up in the hopes they explode! But luckily Dean has his number (sort of) in this chapter. Lots more twists and turns!**

 **Cherry619, I loved the Dean/Bray feud but will forever regret Roman being out injured because him hovering and being worried in the background would have been perfection! Hence this story!**

 **Daisysakura, Awww, sorry you've been having a bad week *offers hug* but protective Roman is always the best medicine. If I could bottle him and sell him in capsule form then trust me I totally would!**

 **Who wants more creepy Bray...**

* * *

 **Village Of The Damned**

They manage to make it right the way through to the morning without having to see Bray and his ugly beard again. Mainly because the guy is absent at dinner _and_ in the main cell block for the rest of the evening after that.

Not that they mind it, well –

 _Dean_ doesn't mind anyway although his bigger frownier cellmate is less easily impressed and so instead spends the entire time glaring at the threshold and clearly expecting the guy to stroll straight back in, which maybe the copper blonde would also envisage were it not for the fact that he is mostly busy throwing up.

No pruno again for the rest of his existence.

Possibly even longer than that.

Fortunately by the time the grey light of morning swings back round to peek in through the frosted glass, the bulk of the nausea seems to have lifted and it leaves him feeling fresh and a whole _hell_ of a lot more bright. Roman is slumbering like the dead as he always does and so accordingly Dean decides to let him sleep it in and therefore clambers quietly into his gaudy orange prison threads before stretching out his muscles and heading kitchenwards for the breakfast shift. In hindsight maybe it isn't the smartest of his limited brainwaves given that his nemesis is back wandering the halls, but then Dean isn't really the sort of person to change his habits based on what are still light and idle little threats, besides which he's been told on more than one occasion that he carries a healthy stubborn streak a mile wide and so chooses to simply keep forging on like always and is rewarded by making it into the chow hall unharmed. In fact it even makes him chuckle momentarily in a wry type of smugness and then snort in contempt.

Nothing to worry about here so why was he worried?

But beneath his usual _eleven_ layers of bravado lies a much more real and pervading sort of fear because whatever the hell Bray Wyatt has in store for him it is eerie and unnatural.

He has known that all along.

Bullyings and beatings in the traditional definition of the variety that happen with fists and feet are fine, because he knows what they're like and on the streets of his childhood had been hauled off and bloodied up plenty of times. Including the week before his arrest for possession – with the crucial legal addition of _intent to supply_ – that had landed him his twenty four month sentence in the big house but which had all been set rolling by a knuckle duster to the ribs and the bag of white powder that had been shoved into his fingers with the instructions to sell the damn stuff _or else_.

Yeah –

Brutal beatings are nothing new for Dean Ambrose but then that isn't what Bray Wyatt is doing to him and instead there is some weird ass _affection_ like the swamp beast is somehow hurting him for his own good or like the copper blonde is some poor bewildered puppy dog being booted and then wagging its stumpy tail back. Even worse is the fact that the bayou hillbilly is mesmeric with the same magnetism that lures bugs towards zapper lights or lemmings to the edge of towering cliff tops or turkeys right into a rifle's waiting path.

Bray is like some fucking shaman.

In other words therefore, he just straight up isn't right.

Retrospectively speaking it's probably the reason that the copper blonde holds his breath when the hall doors open up and when the first flood of rumbling stomachs pad in heavily in a visual assault of tattoos, orange and beard growth.

Bray isn't there though.

Dean assumes that's a good thing but on the other hand his absence is troubling as well, because instead of cooling off the swirling burst of tension it actually manages to ramp it straight up since it isn't a case of Bray popping up again so much as it is a matter of _when_. The guy is like a bad fucking penny or perhaps an outbreak of the bubonic plague and the thought of his ugly and ever bearded moon face being carried across the country is still consuming Dean's head ten minutes later when Roman busts in worriedly and then blows out a breath of sheer relief on seeing him there.

Hell of a way to play it cool big guy.

Roman grabs a tray and then wanders across, trying to act like he _isn't_ still sleep fogged and _hasn't_ literally fucking fallen out of his bed and which would probably be pretty easy to pull off with conviction were it not for the fact that every button is done up wrong.

Dean grins at him as he draws in closer,

"You look like crap brother, an' I thought _I_ was the hungover one."

Roman huffs a breath out,

"What the hell happened man? I thought we talked about this."

"Yeah, but you were there snorin' an' lookin' all cosy – 'sides – I'm a big boy an' everythin' y' know?"

Roman stares back,

"Uce."

Evidently he isn't buying it and his copper blonde cellmate knows instantly why that is and then remembers too late that he had promised the night earlier that he wouldn't move around without his burly minder in tow, because Roman at least is taking the _swamp man_ threat seriously and far too seriously as it maybe turns out.

Dean rolls his eyes,

"Alright man, m' sorry, tomorrow I'll wake you up and we can walk down here hand in hand."

He smirks a little as he offers the apology like the totally smug asshole he usually is and in response Roman sighs but at the same time fights a smile back and slowly the big broad shoulders drop down.

"Idiot."

"Y' know it dude, now are you havin' some oatmeal or are we gonna stand here an' let it go cold?"

Roman puts his tray out and is about to give into it since he has started to grow oddly fond of the thick prison slop, but it stopped from having his usual breakfast when the chow halls doors bang loudly as they are both flung open wide and a round and bearded figure flanked by two tall associates traipses in through like he owns the damn joint and in response the splotch of oatmeal being passed across the sneeze guard falls aimlessly from the ladle and hits the countertop.

"Damn."

Bray.

He is standing on the threshold in his full paunchy glory with his arms outstretched and his head tipped right back and although his stance should draw anger and aggression, the chow hall around them has fallen oddly quiet and it makes the hairs on Dean's arms sort of prickle in a way that not even under torture would he admit as he scrubs them hard to make them lie flat again and then tries to pretend like his nemesis _isn't_ thirty feet away.

"It's good to be back in the village of the damned."

Hell of a greeting.

Bray saunters through the doors and then stops and drags his finger across the tabletop before raising them up and then sucking on them.

 _Gross_.

He pauses for a second and then pops them back out again, before licking his lips like he's savouring the tang, which must be a mixture of last night's chilli and then a following layer of anti-bacterial spray and scurf.

" _Mmmm_ , tastes like home."

Dean actually shudders because god damn it all if it isn't fucking weird and the following silence across the busy and packed out chow hall is evidence enough that everyone else there feels the same. Maybe possibly with the exception of Roman, who is standing clenching his fists and glowering hard. Bray seems to notice or perhaps he infers it or else is clued into it by the voices in his head, because for whatever reason his narrow gaze snaps right round at them and is followed by a grin that is fucked up enough to burn. The asshole is beaming like a kid in a toy shop and nobody seems to want to break his nutso train of thought.

He tips his bearded head back further,

" _I'm home boys_."

His guttural bellow bounces clean around the room but finally appears to release the dazed prison guards who begin to shuffle forwards with their hands around their gun belts in a way which Dean hopes is the warning precursor to the jackass being dragged off to the solitary cells but instead turns out to be merely a reminder and in return the swamp demon holds up his meaty hands,

"I'll simmer down, you don't got to worry."

Dean snorts beneath his breath,

"Yeah, because you're totally sane."

Roman unclenches his fists in response to it as the gradual buzz of the chow hall strikes up again, but then shakes his head and blows a long breath out because the whole thing has been a step too far on the _crazy train_ and if he keeps on glaring across the space any longer he is liable to launch over and give the swamp beast a right hook. Dean knows that without the big man telling him because at some point they have simply become pretty well attuned and it makes him grin a very little in the chaos since it's nice to have a guy in his corner for once.

Not that the smirk lasts all that long however –

Bray looking across pretty much kills it flat and seeing it slide from the copper blonde's feature makes the _Hills Have Eyes_ reject bark to himself in a happy noise which sounds a lot like he's coughing up a hairball and which is technically possible but is actually a laugh.

Roman growls,

"That son of a – ,"

"Hey c'mon uce, you gotta stay calm."

For once it is the younger man who provides the voice of reason as he murmurs above the rising levels of noise, leaning himself over the hot steam of oatmeal and then gesturing roughly like he's looking for the right words. Behind them Bray has lumbered over to a table and dispatched his lackeys to bring him back food, whereupon he hooks his big ass feet on the seat opposite and then leans himself back like he's having a cut and blow dry.

Dean shakes his head then keeps on going,

"He _want_ s you to lose your shit an' go haulin' over there but you gettin' your ass thrown into solitary won't help us."

Roman blows a breath out and then tries not to grumble because reluctantly deep down he knows Dean is right and even _more_ than that has also probably hit on precisely what the bearded cult leader is placing his bets on, since it seems pretty obvious even to a novice that Dean will be far easier to get to on his own. Roman blowing his lid and steaming on over is therefore a great way to get that part done. He cannot afford to leave his cellmate unprotected and so sighs a second time and then throws his hands up,

"Alright uce, you win, I won't go on over there and wipe the smirk off his face with my knuckles."

"Probably best."

But in spite of the tension and their ever grinning nemesis there is a new sort of playfulness hung in the air and it extends to the bigger man rolling his eyes wearily and the copper blonde reaching out to pat him fondly on the chest, in much the same way that a coach might tap his fighter or a animal trainer might rub a grizzly bear and is done with lashings of awkward male fondness and an offhand little shrug of appreciation,

"Thanks though man – like – for havin' my back an' whatever."

He trails off with a cough and then a quick scratch of his head, which is achieved through the too flimsy plastic of his work gloves and possibly leaves a smear of oatmeal in his hair but which still makes Roman smile back at him vaguely and then raise a laconic looking brow,

"Sure thing babe."

He takes his tray and then bags himself a table as close as he can possibly get to the snaking breakfast line, picking a position where he know Dean can see him and where he can also keep tabs on the man trying to rile them up and which helps since the whole thing is beyond damn confusing and the proximity to the swamp brothers doesn't much help. Harper is in the queue like some lady in waiting and edging along the counter grabbing food for his boss while Rowan has evidently been placed on coffee duty as the pair of them flit about like a couple of overgrown slaves for hire. Dean wonders absently if either of them have missed it or if they resent being shoved around by Wyatt once more, which is then firmly answered as a tray of toast and jelly being carried by the tall Luke Harper lumbers right past accompanied by an unmistakable curled lip of warning as he bounds like a pooch towards its master's chosen chair.

Fortunately though none of them seem to want oatmeal and just slope back to their little table and leave everyone else alone, which is clearly not a status that is destined to last long but is a nice reprieve in the meantime from the glowering and means that when his breakfast shift whittles down, Dean goes to join his still hovering cellmate and feels comfortable enough to drop down into a seat because _fuck_ what the swamp monster and his brethren are doing –

Dean isn't going to let them get to him.

He's not.

Roman sniffs in a note of displeasure then turns towards him impatiently,

"You ready to get out of here?"

"Sure. You mean prison, right? Because if that's the plan brother then you should probably know that I'm a pretty good lock pick."

Fond brown eyes flicker wryly back upwards but the bigger man snorts in amusement all the same, then slaps the table with his wide palm broadly which seems to act as a reminder to shift himself. Dean follows lazily, tugging the apron over his hairline and then flinging it in over the sneeze guard as they pass, not bothering to aim or pay any attention to where it flutters because the dawn shift is done and so he couldn't give a crap. Bray is still staring which he knows since he can feel it, but with Roman beside him it doesn't burn all that much and actually fuels him with enough cocky arrogance to throw a little self-assured swagger into his step and which lasts well beyond pushing their way out of the chow hall and back into the main and newly busy cell wing. He is grinning but it stops at a sight up ahead of him and he stops so suddenly that Roman walks right into his spine, before moving around to see what is happening and then issuing the question with the usual word.

"Uce?"

Dean points into the distance,

"Isn't that Truth's cell?"

Roman looks up in the direction of the jab and towards a nervy looking obvious newcomer who is being hustled with his belongings into an empty looking room. Dean blinks mildly and then looks back towards the bigger man with an expression of sheer resignation,

"Damn, that sucks."

"What sucks uce?"

Dean sighs roughly and then shrugs in world weariness.

"Truth must 'a been moved on too."

For him it is simply another prison departure of the type he has come to know only too well, but if had taken the time to look across at his cellmate then he would have seen a far different reaction slotting in and one that would likely have both confused and mildly troubled him, because Roman's thoughts are different.

Exactly _how_ has he moved on?

* * *

 **Questions, questions, always more questions but in the next chapter Roman finds out a few answers for the first time...not that they are good answers though!**


	12. The Holy Grail

**Right so I'm guessing we're about ready for some answers...but notice I said** _ **some**_ **answers because there are still a whole lot more!**

 **Hayley1001, Hey super glad you're still enjoying it and particularly because we still have a long old way to go. In this chapter we're back to the case and we get some answers or maybe that should be more questions instead?**

 **Cheryl24, Bray reminds me of the far more camp Wrong Turn but yeah basically any film that has bizarre social outcasts and that is him and his boys! Mick and Bischoff will pop up more the further we get into things and Mick** _ **should**_ **be in this one but…**

 **Mandy, Bit more on Truth in this one coming up but it might not be in the way you expect. Roman and Dean are pretty much totally in sync now in the way that best friends and brothers should be and that bond is only going to grow too.**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you very much. Got some answers to maybe a couple of questions in this chapter but expect more questions to crop up too!**

 **Minnie1015, Haha, slow burn is totally the description for this one. I kind of felt like it needed to be built up to avoid turning into a massive jumble (like my brain). But yeah sooo many things left to be answered and the drama is by no means over!**

 **Ohana1337, Cookies? Ooh you said the magic word! I'm afraid Bray will be hanging round for a while longer yet as you suspected because he is not the kind of guy to take no very well besides which I know you love him really! No?!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yep, next level Bray stuff coming up next chapter because like you said, he's not a massive fan of the waiting game and also because he's super creepy! Got some answers on Truth in this one so brace yourself…**

 **Skovko, Yeah I'm sorry but sometimes you have to sacrifice a much loved character to make the bad guys even more bad…if they are any bad guys because this could all be a horrible misunderstanding that everyone ends up laughing about. No?!**

 **KiaraKitty08, Haha are you going through this story with a marker pen and everywhere it says Dean you're putting your name in instead?! But yeah panicky and protective Roman rocks but he does that quite a lot in this story and with good reason too…**

 **Cherry619, Good news on the Roman-piecing-the-puzzle-together front because this chapter has a whole lot of the big dog scratching his head and trying to make the jigsaw take shape. But naturally I'm not going to give you** _ **all**_ **the answers!**

 **Stingerette1975, Truth is super cool but…um…well he's healthy and happy in my Little Brother stories which might be the best you can ask for…maybe?! You're right Roman does** _ **not**_ **like what he finds out because the news is not good!**

 **Daisysakura, Roman's overprotective mode goes into warp speed next chapter and from then on but in this one we're back to business for a little bit. As for some physical trauma with emotional hurt on top? I think I may have that covered!**

 **Back into the lions' den then...**

* * *

 **The Holy Grail**

Either because the guy is full of hot nonsense or else because he is simply biding his time, the attack that Roman is waiting to happen remains a possibility but doesn't actually come.

Bray _lurks_ though.

He's real good at lurking and particular in doorways or too close to where they are and always with that look of amused sort of hunger that likes to ripple away beneath the excess of scratchy hair and that makes Dean alternatively twitchy and god damn _outraged_ and which paints a feeling of lingering danger through the stale and sweaty prison air.

Roman isn't keen on leaving his cellmate for a second or frankly even having the copper blonde much out of his sight, except he doesn't really have a choice in the matter since rules is rules and they still both have their jobs.

Dean for his part is fairly pragmatic because in spite of the fact there is a swamp monster after him, he isn't exactly the babying type and so merely shrugs his constantly sloughing shoulders and sniffs a little too hard,

"No big deal uce."

Roman has a hard time believing him on that though –

Mostly because his shoulders keep on moving in a sort of nervous tick of a motion that is by no means calm and makes the younger man look kind of crazy, or potentially on the verge of a total mental breakdown and who could even damn well blame him for that? Locked up after having been forced into dealing, then losing his best friend and now this bayou stalker _thing_.

Roman palms his neckline,

"I can get out of it."

He means his cleaning shifts and isn't bluffing on that point since he is literally a second away from phoning up Hunter and demanding he do something to fix their situation even though he doesn't know exactly what can be done.

Dean won't let him skip out on work however and pushes the hand down,

"You need a clean record man, no troublemakin' so you can get outta here when you're meant to."

He even throws in a far too chirpy _I'll be fine_ which is possibly the least convincing sentence in history but does seem to genuinely be what he wants, because the two of them are men which means the act of needing comfort will always be pushed down for bravado instead, besides which they don't much have a choice in the matter and so the bigger man blows a sigh out and continues to go to work.

 _Needs_ to go to work too –

Needs to focus on his mission.

But damn it if concentrating on _anything_ isn't hard and especially not when the _anything_ in question is carpet dust bunnies and the emptying of trash cans. Although he tries his best to force his lawman hat back on and pull out as much information as he can get.

For the next four days though, he comes up empty.

But on the fifth day he manages to hit the holy grail.

"Stomach flu."

"Huh?"

Roman peers at the guard blankly as he snakes up the vacuum coil and tows it over the office floor. He hasn't been expecting to have a conversation and so the sentence pretty much strikes out of the blue and renders his reply decidedly ineloquent although the bigger man is silently worrying about his lone cellmate too.

The guard blinks back and then gestures around the office,

"Foley, he's not here because he's got the stomach flu."

"Oh."

Roman had noticed that his colleague had been absent only because the chunky man is hard to ignore and for the most part is always whistling and chattering and making the work day fly right by. He had naturally wondered what was keeping him busy but hadn't thought or even figured that he would be allowed to ask and so nods in reply and smiles at the officer in a measure of gratitude,

"Thanks for passing that on."

"You need to clean the file room."

He blinks,

"I _what_ now?"

He doesn't need it repeating because he hasn't heard the words, but more because they slip out so totally casually and play so far into his hands that he can't believe his luck and so struggles to form a normal sounding sentence as his heart begins to hammer.

The guard sighs,

" _File room_."

He punctuates each of the words with frustration, like he's trying to book tickets over the phone but has been saddled with a automated voice recognition system which is forcing him to over pronounce what he wants.

Roman has been there before.

He clears his throat rapidly and then tries to play down the bloom across his chest as he nods his big head and shrugs very lightly in an offhand gesture that he has learnt from his quirky friend.

"Hey sure thing man, just point me in the right direction."

He isn't so much pointed as frog marched there, trailing the tiny and inefficient little vacuum like he has at some point been surgically attached to the thing and then towing it in over the threshold of the file room as the guard unlocks the door and leads them both in.

It isn't exactly the most exciting room in existence in terms of size or general design, but what the space lacks in character and color and _windows_ it makes up for and then some in what it contains, which is rows of neatly lined and towering filing cabinets that are bulging with information that could crack the case and therefore release him from his living prison nightmare as well as bring justice for Callihan, Dogg and Truth.

Dean too probably all things considered.

In other words being stood before the files feels huge and is the reason that the detective almost totally forgets himself in a purposeful stride towards them before remembering his place. He isn't a policeman raiding a drugs den, he's an undercover prisoner with a duster in his hand and so he fights back the near overwhelming urge to rifle and instead clears his throat like he's taking it all in.

The guard leans back against the doorway lazily,

"Warden likes it cleaned once a week, but we don't get long in here so get yourself moving."

Roman doesn't need to be told a second time and instead strolls in with his trusty little vacuum and heads directly for the far corner of the room, hoping against hope that his minder doesn't follow and being rewarded when the smaller man simply stays put and then starts to examine his fingernails absently in a way that implies he's not a man who loves his job.

Perfect.

Roman swiftly ducks around the next row of cabinets and then drops to his knees pulling the thin hoover cord close and pretending to be scouting for a useable outlet as his eyes instead scan the labelled metal drawers.

They are alphabetized –

Good.

For the criminal warden who likes order or being able to easily find the files of the deceased. Presuming that Bischoff is actually _guilty_ which isn't a sure thing and which is his job to find out. Roman hunkers himself down a little further and then shuffles in closer to where he wants to be and moves backwards down the row of boldly printed letters until he finds the nearest likely one.

Bingo.

K.

Truth having been forcibly removed from the prison had made Dean briefly reflective the night before and he had spoken about the guy and the little he had known about him, while at the same time casually tossing his real life birth name out.

Ron Killings.

Roman seizes the cabinet handle and then tries to pull it open a tiny bit but stops with a bolt of cold hard adrenaline as it squeaks in the runners and makes the firm drawer grate too loud. He can't see the guard but he can sure hear him stiffen as well as the instantaneous suspicious sounding voice,

"What was that noise?"

"I'm just looking for the socket – not to worry man, I got it in now."

Roman snaps in the pins and then quickly reaches over to fire up the vacuum into life before hauling himself back onto his feet swiftly and stalling the guard with his sudden reappearance as he begins to haul the noisy appliance back and forth.

It settles the guard who goes back to his leaning and the bigger man blows a sigh out.

 _Damn_.

Round two.

Hooking the drawer open with his foot isn't easy but his half-hearted vacuuming nicely hushes up the sound and allows him to slide the thing all the way open with his heartbeat pounding like it might fall clean out.

He likes it though –

He likes the rush of tension because it's exactly the sort of thing he joined the force for and why he has kept to the career without flinching through the good times and the far worse _undercover prison_ bad.

Lifting up one of the vacuum accessories, he mimes accidentally dropping it on the ground and then lowers into a squat to quickly root through the paper files until he comes to the one he wants.

Ron Killings.

Truth.

He opens it quickly and then skim reads the pages as fast as his pulsing eyes will allow as the adrenaline makes the words begin to swim in front of him and the drone of the vacuum makes concentrating on it hard. He flips the sheets over as he bypasses the basic details and even ignores the seemingly long life of crime, before landing on the last of the thin slips of paper and feeling his gut roll at the red stamp.

 _Deceased_.

"Shit – ,"

In the back of his awareness he can hear the guard shifting, because he has more than likely been hunkered down on the floor too long, but he needs another few seconds to finish reading and so keeps in position with the file in his hands.

"Come on, come on – ,"

He hits on the right line and then sucks in a breath that gets caught up in the dusty air because the truth of what has happened is stark in its simplicity and lack of description.

 _Asphyxiation_.

He had killed himself or at least that's what the official records point to and perhaps even _said_ if he'd had the time to look, which he doesn't since the guard is almost on top of him and fast rounding the line of tall filing cabinets.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Roman slips the thick file back quickly and slides shut the drawer which is still disguised by the vacuum moan and is just pretending to pick up the extension nozzle when the harried corrections officer turns the corner with a frown.

Roman blinks back with a smile of deprecation,

"I – uh – can't work out where this bit goes."

The guard rolls his eyes and checks his watch briskly,

"Well work it out fast, you've only got five minutes left."

Roman nods and grabs up the vacuum which he then begins to sweep in fierce motions across the floor, while he poor brain whirs and paints pictures out of nothing because Ron Killings is dead, like Sami Callihan and Road Dogg and more than ever he knows that something is happening and until he shuts it down, no one is safe.

* * *

 **Next chapter the boys do a little bit more bonding and spend some quality time hanging out...before it all goes to hell...**


	13. Appointment With The Concrete

**From one disaster to another then, here we go! Happy Extreme Rules day by the way, hope the show is a good one!**

 **Cheryl24, Yep many apologies but Truth is no more since the bad guys in this one aren't exactly playing around! Haha, maybe it's better you didn't write to him about prison wine but either it's not a popular thing or he ends up finding out how horrible it is!**

 **Hayley1001, Good news then, because in this chapter (and the ones following it) Dean has extra reason to be fidgety and anxious and Roman has extra reason to be all protective. Not going to spoil it here by saying why but hopefully by the end you'll see…**

 **Skovko, Roman is going to have to be extra uber careful from now on even though I think we all know that there will be drama and problems at some point right?! But before we get into the police side of things let me throw them some more trouble first…**

 **Mandy, Yep I'm giving the boys some nice brother time first in this chapter and then we're going to head back into the chaos. Lots going on next chapter so I'm doing my usual calm before the storm thing because I need to give them some carrot and not all stick!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Aww big thanks! Some brotherly bonding and drama in this one so I hope you like!**

 **Minnie1015, Nice pun but yeah, Truth who** _ **had**_ **the truth is now longer there to spread it about. Sorry R-Truth, I love you really! Roman is doing very well at his undercover bit but of course not that he can keep the side of things up forever *hints at things to come…maybe?***

 **Cherry619, Well there is brotherly bonding and a hint of drama in this one which leads into a whole basket of chaos in the next chapter (with added brotherly feels thereafter of course). Really this entire story is just an excuse for the boys worrying about each other (sorry not sorry!)**

 **Squeegee Beckinhime, Oooh, glad it made you feel all tense! Got another few chapters like that heading your way before the end too but first we have the next couple where we take a backseat from the investigation and handle the** _ **other**_ **minor problem they have!**

 **Stingerette1975, I LOVE old school action movies and yeah, sorry Truth but someone (or several) had to be fed to the lions here. But now don't you want the bad guys to suffer** _ **more**_ **?! Bray is certainly heading our way again and especially next chapter he and Roman come face to face.**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Well hello there! Glad you're enjoying it and sorry about Truth (but his name was too much of a pun to overlook!) In this chapter the boys are back to a little bit of bonding before their first problem rears his ugly head again!**

 **Ohana1337, Aww, thank you so much. Bray Wyatt is my favorite villain ever and even if the Wyatt family are not together anymore they always will be in my head cannon! Plus who better the rough the boys up so they have to be all worried about each other?!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Well good news, Mick genuinely is sick because he's going to feature more in this story you will be glad (or at least I hope you will be) to hear! But alas poor Truth was not so lucky for all his good intentions *takes hat off* sorry Truth!**

 **Daisysakura, Oh I'm totally with you on that one! I would be a nervous wreck if I were Roman. But then that's why Roman is the undercover cop. Plus he's pretty darn smooth no matter what story I put him in! More brotherliness in this one for you!**

 **More bonding coming up...**

* * *

 **Appointment With The Concrete**

Roman seems off the next few days following, which his cellmate puts down to an ordinary prison funk and in that regard the big man wouldn't be on his lonesome since everyone hits a wall after their first few weeks inside.

Dean himself had felt the same sensation back when he had been newly starting out but had bounced up quicker than other people around him largely because his life had always been crap and therefore being locked away had been just a general extension of the deluge of faeces that comprised his freaking life.

Besides which he has always been pretty adaptable.

It's his superpower maybe –

Modify or die.

If Roman is struggling then it is _his_ job to change that and he takes to the role like water to a duck, or however the saying is meant to go usually.

In other words, he goes in completely headfirst starting with some very early morning cajoling on the one precious day he has off from breakfast work and which the prison seems to think is like having a weekend but is nowhere near as a relaxing or fun.

He prods the big man's shoulder where it is hidden beneath blankets,

"Hey Sleepin' Beauty, c' mon man, rise an' shine."

Bleary brown eyes squint up at him unhappily and are followed by a voice ten octaves lower than its usual tone and which is also sort of scratchy around the edges and sounds pretty wildly unimpressed with him to boot. Doubtless it is helped by his own grinning expression and continued childish prodding.

"What the hell uce?"

"You an' me have an appointment with the concrete."

"The what?"

"We're goin' for a mornin' run around the yard."

"Dean – ,"

"C' mon man, it'll be good or whatever an' – y' know – like blow all the gloomy shit out."

Roman raises the brow that isn't buried into his pillow and answers in a very slightly more animated tone, or at least one that doesn't sound only half-conscious which his copper blonde cellmate figures has to be a good thing.

"I'm sorry, gloomy shit?"

Dean slaps his leg,

"Get movin', before the murderers get out there an' creep the place up."

He isn't kidding about that either which the bigger man knows well enough to clamber to his feet, before stumbling about their tiny little cell room while the blue eyes watch him silently above impatiently twitching limbs.

Roman sighs,

"I'm coming uce."

Fortunately though within the space of ten minutes they are out in the brightness of the near deserted yard and keeping time as they easily jog the perimeter and while the cold spring morning shakes the lingering weariness from them both.

Dean grins broadly,

"Told ya this would work, man – get those big ol' brows smilin' again."

Roman snorts,

"Who says they want to?"

Dean stops suddenly with a tired sounding puff then drops himself back to lean against the chain link like he is awkward about something, which is probably because he is. Beams of bright sun are falling hard on the concrete and chasing away the early morning haze in a way that implies the day will be a nice one but which barely seems relevant to the three hundred men locked away. He starts to flick his nails together absently, then drops down his hands with a frustrated little wave which Roman doesn't help by drawing in alongside him and folding in his brows as he waits for his roommate to have his say.

Dean gestures some more,

"I don't want you bein' all sad man, s' not – s' not _worth it_ lettin' this bitch of a place drag you down. An' I know you're a good guy and you totally don't belong here but m' actually fuckin' _like_ really glad you are, 'cos I like havin' your big ass to share a cell with or whatever an' I know what's it's like so – ,"

"You are as well."

Dean blinks rapidly then frowns back a little at the assertive interruption that doesn't make sense and so hovers for a moment trying to figure out the sentence before coming up totally and utterly blank.

"I am what?"

"You're a good guy too uce."

Roman evidently isn't yanking his chain, because he's wearing that same sort of easy expression that he tends to put on when they're talking about shit and it's so god damn earnest and completely reassuring that it tends to make the younger man believe everything he says.

Not this time though.

He snorts back roughly,

"Oh, you mean me the drug dealer? Yeah, _hell_ of a dude."

"Not by choice though babe and you know that, you don't deserve to be here anymore than I do."

"You really believe that?"

He isn't throwing out an insult, he is genuinely asking because he fucking _needs_ to know and needs to hear sometimes that he isn't in the same bracket as the killers and perverts that he has been locked up with for months. Roman puts a big broad hand on his collar, grounding him beneath it like he might try and scramble off but he doesn't since there is nowhere he can feasibly run to, besides which the bigger man is the only safe place he has.

"I believe it _and_ I know it – we're both gonna get out of here."

"Sanity optional though, right?"

"Not if we stick close."

Dean shakes his head and throws a short little laugh out as he looks up into those damn brown eyes, then pushes off the hand since it's now a bit _too_ feely and they are both pretty proud alpha males after all.

"Jesus, last time I try to cheer _your_ grumpy ass up since all I fuckin' did was get myself down."

"Well I appreciate the effort."

Dean grins,

"Fuckin' liar."

"Yeah, you're right uce, next time let me sleep in."

In response to him the copper blonde breathes out a chuckle and then pushes himself up and away from the fence, since true to form and with the fast encroaching morning, the cheerfully sunny yard space is beginning to fill up pretty fast and not with guys who are out to get some laps in, but with the kind who keep busy by whittling themselves knives and aren't too keen on sharing the air with others.

Dean nods,

"Duly noted, now c'mon, it's oatmeal time."

Roman falls into easy step beside him and together they cross back into the prison block, aiming to head to their cell before breakfast and quickly change out of their newly sticky clothes. There is a buzz in the air as they push through the doors though and an excited sort of tension that doesn't happen much and although the younger man knows why in an instant, the brown eyes of the Samoan positively fold up.

Dean pre-empts the question easily,

"Visitation day, people got family comin' in."

"That include you?"

Dean laughs like an idiot in a quirky little loop of a disbelieving bark, which pretty much spells out the answer with full clarity but that he decides to clear up once and for all anyway with words.

"Oh sure, the pill poppin' mom I haven't spoken to in two years is puttin' on her best freakin' dress right now."

Roman winces,

"Sorry uce."

"Nah, it's whatever, s' just the way it is for some folks I guess."

In his case though that's putting things mildly not to mention side-stepping all the family trauma shit, of which there is so much that he can barely keep track of it and so therefore mostly tries to block his chaotic childhood out. Why would he ever attempt to remember in any particular detail his mother coming home drunk? Dragging in whichsoever sorry limp dick of a boyfriend she was mindlessly screwing that week of the month. Why would he hang onto the memories of her screaming as her pimp beat him up at ten years of age and perhaps more to the point, why would he fucking _ever_ want her selfish uncaring features anywhere near him again?

He coughs and tries to keep the flicker from his sentence,

"So what about you? Will you have family comin' down?"

Not for the first six weeks though as is standard because until that point new inmates are banned from seeing loved ones and friends in some sort of weird ass additional punishment to having been arrested, put on trial and then locked up.

Roman snorts a breath out,

"Uh, no, they're better off not seeing this."

"Your parents?"

"Yeah, I mean, my mom would freak out and my pop would start trying to give me advice on things."

Dean assumes he means in terms of how to defend himself or a million other things that real life fathers tended to like to pass on, or at least as far as he can figure it out since his own old man had pretty much cut and run on him.

But, whatever –

Dean doesn't need him much and his prison stint aside, he's doing fine anyway and has turned into a not too horrible sort of guy compared to the monster he could have become easily and that most of the people in his neighbourhood already are.

Maybe he dodged a bullet?

Metaphorically.

He climbs the stairs in a two at the time half jump, while his bigger broader cellmate follows slowly behind and is therefore pretty much in through the cell door before his roommate has even _half_ begun to make the climb. There is a smell in the room that the copper blonde briefly registers but that hits him fully as he looks towards his bed, whereupon the bottom falls out of his stomach and he is so damn startled that he actually skitters back.

Roman steps in behind him unknowing and so ends up with an elbow jammed right in his gut as his backpedalling cellmate sort of crashes up against him and makes him exhale an actual startled grunt.

"Uce?"

"Fuck this man."

Dean sounds like he's angry but he is actually in the grips of a weirded out chill, like cold icy water has replaced his usual blood flow and is pumping the stuff through every cell that he has. Roman peers around his shoulder and the copper blonde can _feel_ rather than physically see his response as the big brown eyes drink in the tableau and the suspiciously blood colored writing on the wall, which has trickled it's way down across the whitewashed brickwork with a deeply warning message.

 _Dean, it's time to come home_.

* * *

 **In case you're wondering then Bray totally added the comma in blood too because cutting himself open is no excuse for poor grammar!**

 **Next chapter Roman tries to make things better but only ends up making things far far worse for himself. Drama!**


	14. A Beautiful Puzzle

**Here comes the fallout of Bray being Bray then and also Roman's brave attempt to try to fix things himself. Can't blame a boy for trying right?**

 **Cheryl24, Swamp Thing is back in a big way from now on and he is going to make his presence very much known, starting from this chapter as you're going to see. Because hey, I figure that the boys aren't going through nearly enough so throw in the Wyatts!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Aww thanks, big of action for you in this chapter and Roman makes what might be his first misstep in this whole thing…**

 **Mandy, From now on Roman is going to have more reason than every to play big brother to Dean since the man seems to find trouble no matter where he goes. But (because I'm an equal opportunities writer) Dean isn't the only one that can find trouble…**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Oh yeah, nothing like lulling you all into a totally false sense of security because I'm always super happy to do that! Lots of big bayou whiskery problems coming the boys way from now on so expect the unexpected!**

 **Skovko, I can sort of imagine Bray turning to leave and then remembering his correct grammar and then going back to add the comma in which I think probably makes it even more creepy…damn, I should have added that in!**

 **Minnie1015, Bray has everything and nothing planned…but mostly everything. I kind of think his ideas are not really planned out but sort of crop up more when he sees an opportunity. He's like the ultimate predator lying in wait. Look out boys!**

 **Guest (Hayley?) Plenty of Dean angst coming but I think it might be time to spread it about a bit first as you will see in this chapter. But yep, Dean will go through the mill emotionally and physically because let's be honest, that's why we're all here!**

 **Guest, Awww thank you, hope you like this chapter because things are going to be a-happening that show a certain someone isn't playing around…**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Thank you so much. I'm super glad you like my stories. Makes me stressing about how good they are/not worth it. Got more Shield one-shots coming when this story has finished too! But first, more creepy Bray stuff!**

 **Daisysakura, True, Roman is always trying to make things better because that's what the boy is like. But in this one he tries the direct approach which has…um…debatable results. But Roman wouldn't be Roman without being protective right?!**

 **Drama coming…**

* * *

 **A Beautiful Puzzle**

It takes them no small amount of time to clear the mess up, at which point they discover that is really _is_ blood since there is no disguising the sharp smell of metal or the way it has started to grow thicker and congeal.

Roman is tempted to call the guards and tattle in the law abiding way that he naturally has, but Dean stares back like he might have gone crazy because evidently that is _not_ the prison way of doing things. Instead they clean it up themselves using toilet roll and their scratchy seldom used prison issue towels, which end up smeared in the deep red substance and make the bigger man equal parts furious and unsure. It is partly because it means that once again without warning Dean is being targeted by Bray, but it is also because the blood has come from _someone_ and yet neither of them can really be totally sure of who.

Bray himself?

It isn't a bad suggestion and frankly the most pleasing assumption of the lot since it means that the bulky half mad moron they are facing hasn't hurt anybody in his quest to freak them out, but _does_ mean that he has cut himself open pretty willingly just to make a god damn point and by the time they have taken the brickwork back to white again, Roman isn't sure if it makes things better or else much worse.

Probably worse.

Dean helps too but only very sporadically since he spends most of the time simply pacing the room, throwing a fist into his opposite palm absently and muttering darkly as he passes items across. Perhaps unsurprisingly given he's being levelled at, the copper blonde's focus is pretty set on revenge and to which end he thinks up some interesting options for how to get their own back on their bearded creepy friend,

"All I need is some tweezers an' a lighter."

Roman snorts wryly in return,

"You got it babe."

For the most part though the bigger man tries to keep cool with it because he doubts hitting the war path will actually help things although inside he is churning like a pot of boiling liquid because he is pretty much furious about the whole thing too and in particular why _his_ poor cellmate is being targeted.

Kindred spirits?

Dean is _nothing_ like Bray.

Dean is a loose cannon and kind of quirky maybe and nor does he conform to the rest of the world, but there is an irrepressible quality that makes him bright and lovable and offbeat and generally a whole lot of _fun_ , whereas the bearded cult leader is straight up malevolent, like he has picked up his character traits from some trite slasher film or else has trawled through the history of serial killers and taken a pawful of horribly messed up traits from each one.

Either way it is something that doesn't belong near them and definitely not outright god damn _smeared_ throughout their cell and so as the bigger man washes off the last remaining blood swipe and tries to ignore the picture of it in his brain, he gathers up the sheets that are also mildly spattered and breathes a heavy sigh out,

"I'll go get these cleaned."

Blue eyes jerk up,

"Nah man, you don't have to – ,"

Roman interrupts him,

"It's all good uce, it's okay."

Naturally it isn't _okay_ in the slightest but in the moment it seems like the easiest thing to say and a lot more succinct then the real words he's thinking but that both of them still subconsciously hear anyway. Namely that the bigger man needs to do _something_ otherwise he will likely blow up or go insane and since washing the bedsheets is his method of coping then who is the copper blonde to stand in his way?

"Uh, okay man – thanks or whatever."

He punctuates the sentence by waving his hands and then folding down heavily onto his newly stripped mattress in his own particular brand of _dealing with things_ and which clearly involves a lot of clicking knuckles and muttering continually under his breath.

Roman reaches out and tousles his hair roughly,

"Don't go anywhere uce, I'll be right back."

Not that there is exactly a list of places he _can_ go considering they are surrounded by four thick perimeter walls and more cameras and dogs and wire than seems possible and also not forgetting fucked up bayou men too.

Roman grunts and then heads for the showers, with the bedsheets bundled up in his arms and giving him something to constrict like a python and therefore pour some of his pulsating hot aggression into because he sure is carrying a whole _lot_ of it with him.

"Fuck Bray Wyatt."

He says it out loud and draws a look from another passing inmate but the guy doesn't question it or try to change his mind, which therefore likely means that he agrees with the sentiments or is trying to keep clear of the bigger man's fractious mood since the undercover cop must seem pretty damn ferocious half strangling a bundle of linen to his chest. Mildly he thinks back to his conversation with Dean from earlier about how everyone ends up with a prison nickname and so quickly lowers his blood covered sheet pile before he ends being labelled _the bedwetter_ or worse.

Luckily the room that houses the single shower stalls is largely pretty quiet since most people are having their chow and there is only one door that has clothes and towels hung over it and two more people who are on their way out. Roman sidesteps them then kicks one of the stalls wide while throwing the bedsheets down onto the tiles and then reaching over to flip on the showerhead which hisses and then coughs out a pathetic dribble of lukewarm drops.

It is easily the thing he misses most about the outside –

His super powerful, massaging fountain jets that pummel his skin into wakefulness each morning as he stumbles through from his _own_ comfortable bed, without the need for god damn flip flops or a ton of sanitizer for everything he has to touch. He misses his couch and his flat screen television, he even misses the morning chirping of that irritating bird because at least the thing sings next to a window that can be opened and isn't frosted over to try and cut out the world.

Pushing those thoughts back, he gets down and scrubs the blood out and then watches grimly as it turns the water pink and sloshes around on the grubby hepatitis tiles before turning in circles and being sucked down.

It isn't a perfect job but they instantly look better and after another few minutes he shuts the water off and then sets about bodily wringing the sheets out which is another pretty good way of shaking off the building stress, since he images the off-white material to be Wyatt and so wrenches and twists as hard as he can while actually _grumbling_ like some sort of an animal.

He likely sounds insane –

But it actually helps and is why after another squeeze, he blows out a breath then bundles the stuff back up and turns to leave the now totally empty shower room which then turns out to _not_ be so empty after all.

Roman stops dead.

There is a figure stood in front of him and blocking the door with his considerable girth, which is partially hidden by a long length of beard growth but cannot disguise the ever rounded gut and the pale little eyes that are narrowed with amusement although none of them have a lot they can honestly laugh about and on seeing him the big man instantly feels the heat rising in the prickle of his skin as his hackles rise up.

Bray Wyatt.

Bray Wyatt is standing in front of him looking like he's just through telling a joke and is so damn twisted and proud of his actions that Roman is moving before he even knows he is, trampling haphazardly over the dropped linen and hauling the slightly smaller man up by his lapels.

"You god damn bastard."

Together they stumble backwards and into the unrelenting grime of the wall, with Roman bearing his full weight down on his rival and basically _throwing_ him into the tiles which the rounded man bounces up off like a beach ball before being pushed right back into them for a second time spine first. Roman clenches his hands fast around the collar with the possible intention of choking the guy out and his words are stuck on a theme as he rumbles them, positively spitting them he's so damn worked up,

"You sick son of a bitch."

Bray grins wider,

"Is there a problem? Because I'm gettin' the sense you're a little riled up."

He doesn't singsong the words like the bigger man is expecting and instead sort of lets the fetid things slither out and then twist themselves right around Roman's system until he can barely _think_ straight or focus very much.

He growls instead,

"You stay away from my cellmate."

"Dean belongs with me."

Bray seems to think of that as fact since it leaves his lips not as argument but as a statement, like he is commenting on the weather or international affairs.

"He isn't you and he isn't a damn thing _like_ you."

"Isn't he?"

"I'm warning you – ,"

"He's just waiting to be torn apart like a beautiful puzzle that needs putting back together."

Roman slams him back with a grunt, watching as a tiny winces flickers over Bray's whiskered features but which then disappears almost as quickly as it came, to be replaced instead with an eerie indifference that kind of puts the bigger man onto the back foot, because how the hell can he threaten him into deference if the creepy bearded psychopath is _turned on_ by the fear and how can he keep Dean safe from his clutches if their enemy treats the whole damn thing like a game?

Roman wraps a non-playful hand around his windpipe.

" _Leave him alone_ , this is the only time I'll ask."

"You can't save the damned."

"You might wanna watch me."

Except in throwing out that word he is setting himself up, since _watching_ is the very last thing he has been doing given that his attention has been focused entirely on his foe and it means that he has overlooked the looming presence behind him, which then makes itself know with a kidney-based right hook,

" _Agh_ – ,"

Roman throws his head back and hisses in sharpness because frankly the blow has come out of nowhere, only he knows that it hasn't and he also knows he's been stupid and is likely to pay pretty heavily for the mistake. He tries to turn in an attempt to put his fists up, but then Bray is moving with a new turn of speed as he grabs the undercover man and flips their position so that Roman instead is pressed back first to the wall and which Bray then by launching a fist up right underneath the big man's rib cage, landing beneath the sternum where the soft, squishy tissue is and burying right into it with a brutal looking grin. It produces a ripple of pain and an exhalation that bursts from Roman's lungs and explodes across the space but also leaves him bent pretty much double so that Bray can swing an uppercut at his unguarded face.

 _Thwack_.

Knuckles connect across the top of Roman's cheekbone and his vision explodes with fiery bright stars so that he wobbles a little but doesn't give into it which then means that he is aware of Bray slowly backing off.

He also hears the chuckle,

"Tell Dean I'll be seeing him."

Roman bites a groan back but cannot find the words, since his cheek and gut feel like they're on fire, besides which he is struggling just to stay on his feet and also to contend with the growing awareness that he hasn't helped at all.

He has only made things worse.

* * *

 **Next chapter Dean finds out what has happened...let's just say that he is not impressed!**


	15. Hell No

**Here comes the fallout of Roman trying to be the hero. Dean is less than impressed to put it mildly! Brotherly love for the win!**

 **Cherry619, Roman does have a pretty big to-do list at the moment admittedly the poor guy! We'll be getting back to the case in the next chapter but first he has to deal with his cellmate. This is why I loved the prison setting…no escape from all their woes *rubs hands together wickedly***

 **Daisysakura, Roman really did try to stay calm but hey, he cares about Dean too much not to want to beat Bray bloody. Except it didn't really work out all the well for him huh? Lots of Dean angst coming shortly but first a little vengeful Dean to whet your appetite!**

 **Mandy, Dean is…um, fractious about the whole thing let's put it like that. But Bray is totally not finished yet so there's that on the horizon too. Got a huge couple of chapters coming up after this one so brace yourself for those. Glad you still love it!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Yep, Dean is not a happy little bunny in this one. But Bray is only beginning his twisted little games. There's still much more to come from his whiskery features!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Big time, Roman made a rookie mistake and forgot about the swamp brethren. Like Bray would ever go anywhere alone? But on the plus side we get a bit of protective Dean in this chapter. Or maybe that should be a bit of murderous Dean?!**

 **Minnie1015, I thought it was about time Roman got himself into trouble. I mean, he can't be serious and super sensible all the time (most of the time but not all). Besides, for some reason I wanted me a furious Dean in a jumpsuit swearing and pacing in a tiny little room, so here 'tis!**

 **Stingerette1975, See but Bray wouldn't see having his backup there as being a coward, he would see it as having had superior intellect on the matter. Of course the rest of us would say cowardly though (not to his face obviously). Dean is super not happy in this chapter though, understandably!**

 **Cheryl24, Banjos and the squeaky runner of an unvarnished rocking chair perhaps? Or crickets in the background on a dark and spooky night? Ugh I love crazy pants Bray so much as a villain. He needs to find a new 'family' on TV ASAP and go back to being freaky.**

 **Skovko, Sorry but I can't make things too easy on the boys yet, we've got a lot further to go first. Besides, Roman always comes out on top so I thought maybe I would beat him up a little bit in this one to even things up a bit. I mean, fair is fair right? Lol!**

 **Hayley1001, Bray loves thinking he has the upper hand and he is totally thinking that right now. Dean is not impressed in the least but he's mostly worried. Still, lots more Bray and general angst to come between the boys so plenty of time for Roman to give back!**

 **Ohana1337, If you mean here comes angry pants ranting Dean then you would be right! Poor Roman was only trying to help, but then no good deed goes unpunished and all that jazz! Plus they are in prison so I can't make it too nice for them in there!**

 **Time for Dean's reaction then…**

* * *

 **Hell No**

Dean is sitting reading on his uncovered mattress when Roman stumbles in through the door, doing his best to look and act natural and clutching the wet bed sheets clumsily against his chest.

His cellmate doesn't look up at him as he enters and weirdly seems to be totally cool, like some insane killer had never snuck into their personal space and daubed a chilling blood-written message for him at all. He flicks a page of _The Seventh Scroll_ idly and then snorts a little,

"Never read this kinda thing before, I like it though – you got the next one in the series?"

Roman grunts gruffly,

"Probably, check the pile."

He is attempting to sound like everything is groovy but obviously falls pretty wide of the mark, since Dean lets the book fold down onto his stomach and then looks up quickly with appraising blue eyes. His mouth falls open,

" _Shit_ , uce – ,"

"I'm okay."

But obvious his face paints a very different show since the copper blonde scrambles off the bed baby horse-like in a tangle of limbs that nearly trip their owner up. The book hits the mattress then slides towards the concrete and lands with a clatter which neither man seems to hear and in an instant Dean is pushing down the bedsheets and probing at what is obvious a fast swelling black eye.

"Who the fuck did this?"

It's a reasonable question given that they are surrounded by nearly three hundred _punch happy_ guys, but it still rankles slightly in having to say it and so the bigger man doesn't and simply pushes him away,

"Forget it uce, it's done."

Dean blinks after him,

"Hell no I won't _forget it_ , who came after you man?"

He is standing behind him with his fists clenched tight together and his mood doesn't lighten as Roman crosses towards the sink and begins to dampen a washcloth with precision which he then lays blissfully across the eye that took the hit.

"I wasn't being careful."

"What does that mean – _fuck_ man."

Dean barks the word out suddenly and loudly and in response to it his cellmate winces a little bit, because he knows he's worked out who his assailant was and so also knows that nothing good will follow on from that since their roles have reversed and it is his friend now on the warpath, which is both completely worrying but pretty touching as well.

Roman puts out a hand,

"Babe,"

"Bray did this didn't he?"

His answer is a sigh and in response to the _not admission_ , something shivers across the blue gaze, then briefly turns red and makes the bigger man grab his shirt front in an attempt to physically hold him in place.

"Uce, hey – don't."

Dean growls and shakes him again off in a purposeful march towards the open door which can basically only mean heap big trouble and doesn't bode well for _any_ of them. Roman reaches out and takes a firmer hold again and then hangs on tight as his cellmate thrashes about, trying to loosen the tightly locked fingers and ignoring the way they are stretching out his shirt.

"Roman, let go."

"Not a chance."

"But he _hurt_ you."

Dean looks genuinely physically upset and although it is wrapped within layers of pure murder, it is there because the copper blonde _cares_ about him and is a testament to how close the two of them have drifted in their few weeks together.

Dean and he are family now.

Even so it doesn't stop the bigger man frowning, with one hand still pressing the wet cloth to his face and his other one gripping his near frothing roommate, who he finally manages to pull back a half a pace,

"Uce, cool down, I don't need you getting hot here, I'm still kinda reeling with this as it is."

It seems to work a little, or maybe it's his weariness but either way the younger man mildly calms himself and although he still looks ready for action and is flat out fucking _furious_ Roman figures that it's a start and so finally unwinds his fingers from the tee front and then turns around to drop into a heavy sit on his bed.

Hell yeah, that feels better.

Dean huffs an antsy breath out,

"What happened uce? You were only gone five minutes. What the fuck went on down there?"

Roman opens his mouth but then doesn't say anything since he is pretty much still trying to figure that part out himself, because one second he was wringing out the blood tangled bedsheets and the next he was bent forwards trying his best to suck in breath.

He sighs a little then turns his palms over,

"Like I said babe, I wasn't being careful enough."

"Not an answer."

Dean isn't budging and clearly wants something more concrete than that but the truth of which is liable to make him charge out of there and go headlong into some sort of weird bayou-man fight. Still, Roman has gone beyond pretending nothing much happened and he isn't the sort of person that feels happy having to lie. The undercover thing is already enough to work with, so he doesn't want to throw in extra bullshit as well.

He raises a heavy brow,

"Promise you won't go crazy?"

"M' promisin' _nothin'_ – ,"

"Dean man, come on."

Blue eyes flash fiercely underneath the long bang fronts which bounce a little as the younger man shakes his head, then repeats the general crux of the matter with a bark of frustration,

"He beat you the fuck up."

"Not worth going down to solitary over, trust me uce, I don't want your ass back in there."

Roman isn't even remotely kidding either, since the thought of it sends general paroxysms through his heart and not without good reason either given everything that has happened down there and the way that people in the isolation unit don't seem to come back out again.

Not unless they're encased in a body bag at any rate.

Dean is still watching him pretty darn closely and so the bigger man relents but tries to keep the telling calm, since the copper blonde is liable to go off like a rocket and their cell is too small to take the ensuing hellacious bang.

"Bray came in and I up and went for him, but forgot to watch my back."

Roman ends with a shrug and although it hasn't totally filled all of the gaps in, it has painted enough of a picture that his cellmate curls a lip and hisses out a curse word which is then swiftly followed by about eighteen more.

"Fuckin' asshole bastard shit – ,"

Roman tunes out the rest from that point onwards and instead focuses his energies into stretching out across the bed and angling the washcloth right over his eyeball, which is starting to feel just a little bit sort of puffy and will probably be a nice shade of purple by lunch. It isn't the first shiner he's been given in his lifetime but it's definitely the one that hurts the damn most which is in part down to the fact that Harper is a giant but that he also feels in a far more mental sense as well, since he should have been paying far better attention –

He should have _known_ one of the burly lackeys would be around.

"Uce, y'kay big guy?"

Dean crosses towards him in the typical louche sort of foot scuffing way that he has and then hovers in total brotherly worry as the older man blows out a semi contented sigh,

"I'm good."

"Want me to go an' get you somethin' for it from the commissary? Think I got credits for Tylenol at least."

Roman snorts fondly,

"Nah, think I'll just ride this, thanks though babe."

"Where else did he get?"

"What?"

Dean folds his arms and then huffs a little breath out before absently waving his hands in the air, like he does whenever he is amped up or fractious and generally struggling to find the right words. Roman often marvels at how the copper blonde's reflexes seem to move faster than his by no means lethargic brain and how it sometimes leaves him floundering for several seconds as his major motor functions wait for his grey matter to comprehend.

He gets there eventually,

"Bray must have hit you more man. I mean, he must 'a thrown – like – a _couple_ 'a knocks in?"

His eyes are scanning up and down his cellmate's body like he might at any moment start bleeding out right there and then and in response to it the bigger man shrugs back lightly and then removes the fast drying towelling cloth with a sigh,

"Nothing that gets to me as much as this sucker."

He points to his bruise and earns himself a rolled eyes grunt, which is then swiftly followed by Dean reaching over and snatching the cloth which he refreshes in the sink, letting the water run icy for a moment before wringing it out and bringing it back.

"Here."

"Thanks babe."

Dean blinks back at his friend for a second and suddenly a flicker of amusement is back, but it is evidently tangled with something more awkward because he raises a hand and quickly scratches at his head,

"What is that?"

"What?"

"That whole weird _babe_ deal – not that I don't like it, I mean, I don't exactly _care_ – ,"

He tails off hopelessly and it makes the brown eyes crinkle because the need for validation is both heart rending and cute, because it seems pretty clear that in his thirty years of living, that no one has bothered giving Dean a pet name before or maybe even taken time to tell him that he matters.

Roman smiles mildly,

"I can stop if you want?"

Dean gapes,

"What? _No_ – uh – I mean, whatever, it's your choice so do or don't since I'll still answer, y' know?"

"Yeah, I know babe."

Blue eyes flicker upwards and then hold on with a twinkle like he gets that he's being played and in return the big dog shrugs back mildly and then replaces the washcloth with a halfway contented breath.

Dean pats his leg in general understanding but his voice sounds hard,

"Bray Wyatt will get his."

Roman nods back with a quiver of pure malice and a mildly concussed grin,

"You'd better believe that."

* * *

 **Next chapter Roman makes strides with the case but comes up against a further problem, because when have things ever worked out simply for him?!**


	16. Bischoff's Office

**Here we go then, we are now nearly halfway through. Plenty more Bray coming up in the chapters to come but first Roman is back with his first concern…**

 **Stingerette1975, It was nice to write Dean as the one on the warpath for once. Good to switch it up every now and again. Roman calling Dean babe is one of my favourite things ever. It's just such a lovely little part of their friendship IRL and in my stories (I hope!)**

 **Mandy, Aww glad you liked it. I've written plenty about how protective Roman is and how much he hates seeing Dean hurt, but it stands to reason that Dean would be like that too so I thought it was about time that I showed some of that. Bromance forever!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you, got some more police case information in this one, but over the next few chapters Roman is going to have his hands full with** _ **lots**_ **of problems. Poor boy!**

 **Daisysakura, Dean is like Toulouse in The Aristocats when he tries to be a big tough alley cat and spits everywhere. Okay, maybe not but not totally unlike that (in my head). Glad you still thought him being protective was fluffy. What can I say? He loves his boy!**

 **Cheryl24, They probably could report Bray to the authorities if they trusted the authorities in that prison at all. Besides, with Roman trying to keep a low profile the last thing he wants is he and Dean bringing attention to themselves by complaining. Our poor boys are a bit stuck!**

 **Guest, Thank you, plenty more drama coming, especially in the next few chapters after this one, so stick around for the fun times (except it's not fun for the boys!)**

 **Hayley1001, Roman is back on the case in this chapters but there is a whole bunch of angst coming up in the chapters that follow this for reasons that will become apparent. But yeah, there are a couple in particular that I know you're going to like on that front!**

 **Minnie1015, Haha, glad you liked it, my other favourite description would be baby giraffe which I kinda wish I'd used instead! Anything clumsy and gangly really. I honestly don't plan to put** _ **believe that**_ **in as often as I do, but occasionally I hit a point and think** _ **oooh it would fit here**_ **so voila!**

 **Skovko, Well we've still got a long way to go with this one (we're just under halfway at this point) so there is always the potential for an unholy brawl. Gonna keep you guessing though, because I'm mean for one thing and also…nope, I'm just mean!**

 **Cherry619, Yeah, I know, I'm sure dumping a lot of things on Roman in this story. But he knew that prison was never going to be fun right?! Bray is certainly going to be a flashpoint but he's got even more to deal with first starting with this chapter and then BIG TIME in the next one!**

 **Back to the case and some more Mick Foley…**

* * *

 **Bischoff's Office**

His expected black eye comes up like a beauty and then stands up proud for all the world to see and could basically be waving a red flag of warning emblazoned with the words –

 _I got into a fight_.

Because it had happened when no one else was watching the only thing he has to deal with is the bruising and affront but that doesn't stop the guards looking at him funny with a mixture of knowing and suspicious alarm.

It isn't a good feeling and he tries to deflect it by dropping his head or trying to come across non-threatening but which is hard to pull off at some two hundred and fifty pounds plus and while topping out at over six foot three with a badass tribal tattoo over one shoulder that takes up nearly the full length of his arm.

He might as well be a walking poster for badass although the truth is far different –

He's a policeman for god sakes.

Dean for his part turns schizophrenic mama bear on him and physically _growls_ at anybody that looks their way and the dual effect of the big man with his glower and the copper blonde with his twitchy fists manages to keep their path clear which is good because Roman hurts kind of all over although he tries not to show it.

His headache lasts for three days.

In the entirety of that time though, Bray Wyatt is absent and so too are his lumbering bayou friends. Roman doesn't see them at breakfast, lunch or dinner and nor is there any sight of them in the hallways, showers or yards. If they weren't in god damn hemmed in _prison_ then it might even seem possible that they somehow upped and moved away to cast their weirdness over a new little location –

Except it isn't that.

Even so, they've gone to ground.

Dean has a theory on that one however which he shares two mornings later when his breakfast shift has been hard won and the larger prison populace is hoovering up food stuffs or picking through the tacky oatmeal of which he has actually grown fond. He is sitting on his own at a table in the corner that has sort of become his regular spot and he is being given looks but left well alone otherwise like the more timid inmates think he might suddenly hulk out.

Dean drops into the spare seat opposite in the _puppet without strings_ way he usually has and then hits his pink palms down hard on the table like he's making a big announcement,

"They're holin' up."

"What?"

He shrugs back then hooks a lazy foot up on the table like he's actually reclining in a lounger at the beach and a prison guard sighs and starts to trudge in towards them which makes the bigger man lean over and shove the prison shoe back off.

Dean doesn't flinch,

"They know they've fucked up here an' they're hunkerin' down in their cell."

"They've got to eat."

"They still can from the commissary – like – maybe those assholes have been hoardin' cans an' shit in preparation for months?"

Roman blinks then casts back to the first evening when he had inadvertently listened into Harper taking a call and talking about having someone back in the fold again who he realizes now likely had to have been Bray. Whoever it was that the lackey had been speaking to had given them warning that their leader was coming home and so the theory on them stockpiling food in the interim was pretty damn feasible and probably not far off.

He nods,

"Maybe uce."

But he still isn't sold on the three bearded giants having nervously skittered off since he cannot imagine the white eyes being frightened or frankly _any_ of them being spooked by a fleeting fight.

Either way though, the three men are absent and after four long days without them a tentative buoyancy settles in, like maybe they really _are_ done with their weird enmity or maybe the sons of bitches have in some way mentally moved on. For all they know Bray could have chosen a new target and the thought of that is fine by them.

Not that it stops the prickling uneasiness.

But then again he's in _prison_ , so perhaps that's simply a standard thing?

Roman still gets up and takes himself to work though and three days after his painful shower room beating, Mick Foley traipses unsteadily back in, toting a pair of ruddy and weeping eyeballs alongside a hacking noise that bubbles from his chest.

Roman lifts a brow at him,

"Hey, you okay man?"

He cannot really help but be genuinely concerned, since the floppy haired monster looks only seconds from collapsing or else crawling beneath a desk and curling himself up. Instead of doing either however, he smiles back broadly which seems to trigger a watery cough and forces the undercover policeman to slap his spinal cord in a feeble sort of gesture that doesn't seem to help much.

Foley sucks a breath in,

"Whoo, that was a big one, but forget about me here, what happened to _you_?"

He means the black eye and in response to the question the dark headed inmate grumbles mildly in return, because how the hell is he meant to explain it without making it sound like the weirdest thing in the world _or_ without clueing in the eavesdropping prison guard who is pretending not to be hanging on their every last word?

Roman clears his throat,

"I fell in the shower."

In technical terms it's not an outright bald faced lie but it is also evidently in no way believable since Foley lifts a brow up and then chuckles,

"Okay, sure."

It is nice to have him back though as they get down to the cleaning, because the broader man reverts almost at once to humming tunes and telling his usual never ending stories albeit it with a bunch more coughing and spluttering involved.

"Did I tell you about the time I headbutted the Washington Monument?"

Roman grins at that one and shakes his skull,

"No."

Except before he gets the chance to start to hear it, his colleague groans mildly and his eye roll slightly back. Foley stumbles and puts a hand out quickly to brace himself against the nearest office desk and the movement sends the keyboard clattering into a pen pot which then promptly falls over and litters sharpies across the space.

"Whoa – ,"

"Easy."

Roman is there in a second, blitzing over the carpet to help support the big man's weight and then bracing him underneath the armpits with effort while his friend recovers and lets his head get up straight. Far less reactive is the bored looking prison guard, who suddenly shoots up from where he has been lazily perched and comes in towards them with one hand on his holster like the thing might be some previously well thought out ruse.

Roman growls darkly,

"Help me out here will you?"

His policeman tones come instantly back to the fore and bizarrely he must still have them down to an artform because the corrections officer blinks but then hustles across, taking some of the heavy weight from the prisoner and then helping to get Mick sat in a chair. It is a swivel thing and depresses beneath the bulk of the cleaner, but it gets him off his feet and makes him look mildly less pale. He even manages to cough in amusement but he's sweating up a storm and clearly not back to full strength,

"Boy, that was close huh? Nearly wiped out on the desk there."

"How are you feeling man?"

"I'm good, I'm good."

It is probably typical of men who are in prison – or men in general – to act like everything is fine and likely why the bulky man tries swiftly to get up again as if almost passing out is some menial thing. It turns out it isn't however when he stumbles and the blood drops out of his face a second time, at which point he is pushed back into a sit again with the addition of the guard shoving his head between his knees.

"Foley, stay there, the other one can finish up here."

Roman blinks since _the other one_ is clearly him and then tries not to bark in happy astonishment because the only thing left still to clean is one room and in particular the room that has always been closed off to him since in prison terms at least it is virtually hallowed ground.

Bischoff's office.

Roman stands quickly then tries to downplay the rapid beating of his heart which is starting pound in the familiar rhythm that it always strikes up before an arrest or a raid –

Because _this_ is what his mission comes down to.

It is his best chance yet to get the evidence he needs, or at least put eyes on something vaguely helpful or that ties the prison warden to the drugs or wrongful deaths and so therefore even better is the fact that he is solo, with the guard still preoccupied with the sick and hefty man.

He nods his head,

"Sure thing man, I got this covered."

But then walks off quickly before the guard can change his mind, or possibly realize the breadth of his error in sending a total greenhorn to clean the crucial room.

 _Shit_.

Roman crosses the carpet in a heartbeat, half expecting to called back with every wide step, but instead makes it right the way across the open office and then in through a partition to where Bischoff's personal assistant sits. Reaching out a hand he twists the chrome door knob and then throws a look over his shoulder to be sure and is relieved to find the guard still crouched next to Foley and even testing the man's forehead with the back of his hand.

He lets himself in.

Familiar shades of plain white paint stare back at him, but instead of concrete flooring it is offset by carpet tiles in the same shade of blue that covers the offices and which is thin but at least splashes some tone into the place. There is a big bright window on the outside wall in front of him, but which is pulled and shuttered down so makes the room feel oppressed and casts a weird sort of zigzag of sun beams across the sparse and hard furniture –

Filing cabinets, chairs and desk.

Bischoff either isn't a man who is keen on personalizing or else doesn't care about the outward impression of the room because looking around there isn't so much as a hint of him, not in family photos or scribbled notes or _anything_ and in the end the only piece that stands out with clarity is a pile of open topped, classic car magazines, many of which have been thumbed near repeatedly and bear the turned corner tabs of a man making a list.

Maybe he is selling drugs to get his dream racer?

Roman grunts –

It is _not_ a good excuse.

Moving towards the desk in the dulled and slatted daylight he rounds the thing quickly and pushes back the chair, his brown eyes sweeping in over the item and then down to a small three-drawered inbuilt cabinet.

That was it.

Foley had told him about where the warden stashed his paperwork back on his first day as a part of the cleaning crew and the crucial information had stayed fast within him, burrowing itself deeper like a parasitic bug. If the evidence for what has been happening in confinement is going to be anywhere then it is going to be in there and so he stoops and pulls at the handle optimistically but is totally unsurprised to find the damn thing locked tight. It rattles a little but doesn't budge otherwise and Roman sucks a breath in because he needs another plan.

He needs the key or he needs a lockpicker which seems pretty unlikely given –

He checks himself.

" _Dean_."

Hadn't his cellmate made a throwaway comment about being able to pick locks a few days before? More to the point had it been a random statement designed to draw a little smile or laugh or was he being unusually serious in sharing that he can actually break into stuff? Frankly with the copper blonde either thing is possible but the potential is enough to cause a flicker of hope and is why Roman is clambering back up onto his feet again when the prison guard suddenly appears in the door, having realized his error thirty seconds too late probably and who then eyes him with suspicion,

"What are you doing in here?"

Roman drops a cloth down onto the desktop and then swipes it across in a slow and easy move, looking up coolly like he doesn't see the problem and then meeting the gaze,

"I'm doing my job."

"Well make it quick and just finish up with that part, we're packing up early and calling it a day."

"Foley alright?"

"I said to get moving."

Roman gives the keyboard a cursory sort of sweep and then flaps the cloth out in a hail of dust particles before throwing it loosely across his shoulder blade and holding his hands up to show he isn't trouble as he moves his big frame steadily back towards the door.

His head is buzzing –

He needs to get back in there and might get his chance if Foley goes sick again, but the problem is that being there on his own isn't helpful, unless his quirky cellmate is in there _with_ him that is, or maybe can give him a lesson in lockpicking although that route might take more time than either of them have. He squeezes past the guard back out into the office where the big form of Mick Foley takes up almost all of the view and also fills the room with a volley of sneezes which burst free from him as his body jolts in the chair. Behind him the prison guard locks the door pointedly and then blows a sigh out,

"Come on, we're done here."

Roman follows slowly.

He now knows that the answer is in the tightly locked desk drawers, but is struggling to come up with a workable solution, because he needs to engineer a specific situation or else somehow wait for the stars to again align. In front of him Foley hacks another bubbly cough out but the big man barely hears it since his brain is firing hard and helping him plot the next step of his mission.

It seems obvious on the face of it.

He needs to call the boss.

* * *

 **Next chapter...well, let's just say that things happen and you won't want to miss it (at least I hope!)**


	17. Dean Knows

**Okay so big drama in this one which is going to set us up for the next few chapters. Try not to throw too many things at me okay? Pretty please?**

 **Hayley1001, Hmmm, I kind of imagine Dean getting the hell out of dodge if a riot happened. Like heading back to his cell and hunkering down rather than hanging around ready to be picked on. Glad you like protective Mama Dean but there is also Protective Mama Roman coming up too! Plus more Wyatt stuff like you expected. But first…**

 **Skovko, Haha, not sure lockpicking would count as a positive course for prison inmates, but I bet Dean would be a great teacher. He would probably hand out stickers as well and take it super seriously and grade them and everything. And next door Mick Foley could be teaching people how to headbutt things without killing themselves!**

 **Cheryl24, Um, yep, sorry very wishful thinking on the Bray front. Because the guy and his hairy henchmen are like bad pennies in this story so they are totally going to pop up again and even hopefully when you least expect them! But first I'm giving Roman another problem to handle because hey, I figure two isn't enough!**

 **Mandy, Aww, glad you're excited, but this one might be a little bit cruel, especially where I end it. Either way we're moving into a new part of the story now so from here on out things are going to be different for our boys and maybe their friendship as well *cruelly dangles these hints in front of you then snatches them away***

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you so much. Hope you like this one because it's going to be a biggie in terms of where we go from here!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Well, as usually you are totally right on both fronts. Dean actually does have lockpicking skills in this story (although god only knows where he picked them up from). And as for Bray? Yep, he's around and his absence does not make the heart grow fonder. He'll pop up again soon enough. You have been warned!**

 **Cherry619, Oooh, hopefully this chapter will catch you by surprise then. But I'm going to pile on the drama from here! Life as we know it is about the change for our boys. Or at least certain parts of it will *throws head back and laughs evilly***

 **Daisysakura, No, I don't think anyone wants to imagine Mick streaming snot and coughing etc. Ewww! Roman sure has lots on his plates, so I'm going to throw something extra onto his crap pile in this chapter, but hey, it had to be done right? But on the plus side there is one thing that he won't have to worry about anymore…**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, In the next few chapters there are a lot of things that are going to change so more information is going to come out about what is happening etc (I'm trying not to give too much away at this point) especially after this chapter. Glad you're still enjoying it because we're going to get into the business end of things from here!**

 **Minnie1015, I'm sure there are lots of less than legal things that Dean could teach Roman while they're inside, but luckily Roman is too law abiding to want to learn! I especially feel for Mick reading it back while I was busy hacking up my lungs. Luckily Mick didn't have whooping cough but if I had written the chapter while I had it then he might have done!**

 **Stingerette1975, Lockpicking will definitely come up again and Bischoff is going to have more prominence in this second half of the story too, so there is lots of potential for Roman to be busted even though he is trying his best to keep low. This chapter might change things a bit too. Poor Roman, I'm really putting him through it in this!**

 **Brace yourselves…**

* * *

 **Dean Knows**

By some stroke of the fortune the phone room is empty when he pushes his way in there the second he gets back, which means he can basically take his pick of the call booths and then thankfully speak freely as his gruff toned boss picks up.

"Helmsley – ,"

Roman barely lets the man haul a breath in before he cuts across the opening in a borderline snap. His free hand is palming the wooden shelf in front of him and subconsciously flexing and then loosening into a fist as his brainstem whirs with a sudden sense of purpose that he wants to get resolved since the case is at stake.

He chooses not to offer any form of preamble,

"I need a favor."

"How can I help?"

"I need you to put my roommate on cleaning."

His boss coughs roughly then pauses for a second as he evidently tries to wrap his head around the thing but comes up short and generally bewildered which then carries in his bewildered sounding tones,

"What do you mean?"

Heaving out a sigh which briefly quells his fractiousness the bigger man swipes his tense face with a hand, then rakes it through the short spiky strands of his facial hair like the abrasion of its harshness might help to calm him down.

He tries again with added additions this time,

"I managed to get a look inside the warden's office, but the drawers I need to get into are locked tight."

Hunter grunts at him,

"How did you get in there?"

"Guy that usually takes the lead on cleaning it was sick and they didn't have anybody else who could do it."

He hears a long sigh and then the creak of the chair as his boss leans back and compiles the information in the meticulous and calculated way that he has and which has served him well enough throughout his long police stint to have risen him to the captaincy without a blot on his copy book.

Hunter grunts,

"Do you know what we want is in there?"

"No, but I'm guessing it damn well _has_ to be since he isn't putting anything like that in the archives."

He knows that for a fact because he has already looked, on top of which it seems pretty hugely improbable that a man who is using and abusing his own prison would leave the evidence in the file room for the world to see and so really the locked drawers are a total no-brainer and luckily the police captain seems to think agree.

Partly at least –

"So why do you need your roommate?"

"Dean has experience when it comes to busting locks."

He chooses not to mention his other main reason for wanting to keep the scruffy headed copper blonde close _or_ the fact the pair of them are being stalked around the corridors and periodically beaten up by a crazy cult leader and his friends.

Hunter clears his throat,

"Does he know your identity?"

Roman blinks,

"You mean that I'm a cop?"

Instead of reply to him immediately however the police captain instead pauses to suck in another breath, like he is waiting for the younger man to offer him reassurance and underline that his cover has by no means been blown.

Roman grumbles heatedly in response,

"You think I've told him?"

"I think you're under a lot pressure in there certainly so if you _have_ then I would understand – ,"

"Dean doesn't know."

He spits out the sentence with no small amount of warning because they are moving into something that has no place in the call and which pretty much serves as a glaring reminder that he has been lying to his cellmate and friend all along.

Hunter sighs,

"I'm not sure I can help you."

For a second it isn't clear what he's talking about but then becomes apparent that he is back on the transfer and the slim hopes of getting their lockpick on board.

Roman frowns,

"Can't you do what you did the first time?"

In other words when they somehow got _his_ ass on the cleaning crew and therefore in a prime location to investigate and which therefore they can surely manufacture this time too. Hunter huffs in response to the assumption and then makes a point of flapping some papers on his desk which is either an attempt to actually find something or else a form of transferring his frustrations somewhere else.

"You know how I got you onto cleaning in the first place?"

Roman stays quiet in an unspoken reply.

 _No_.

"We had to damn well hack into the records and put your name in place of someone else, which got through because back then you guys were all newbies so nobody had worked out who was best suited where. But if we try that stunt now you guys are all settled and just up and start moving everyone about, we run the risk of some asshole asking questions and blowing this shit open before we've even begun."

Hunter slams down something that makes a loud clinking and then swallows what is likely a huge gulp of from his coffee mug that has been probably been sitting untouched since the morning getting progressively less appealing and more cold.

Roman rubs his brow line,

"So what are my orders?"

He figures it might be best if his boss gets to decide since frankly their options are becoming ever more limited and there is only so much that can be done from the inside.

He is met by a pause,

"Keep trying to get in there, maybe we get lucky and he forgets to take the key?"

It seems unlikely but not totally improbable and so the bigger man blows out a sigh and nods his head, which is a gesture of assent that goes completely unnoticed since they are talking on payphones and not chattering over skype.

Roman offers it verbally,

"Whatever you say boss."

But he knows that it is going to be pretty much impossible to stand back and carry on reconnaissance work when the proof that they need is likely locked in the desk drawer and therefore a fingertip from being discovered in a move that will undoubtedly signal his release.

Home, his parents.

Holy _hell_ he misses it and it sends him into an immediate funk as he pictures his bedroom and his kitchen and his living room with its big comfy couch seats and his flatscreen.

"Reigns?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there anything else you've found out being in there that we can maybe look into in the meantime?"

Roman blinks –

Hell _yeah_ there is and his newfound memory of it makes him sit up a little straighter again and sucks the homesick feeling back out of him as the instinctive police senses start buzzing in his veins.

"I need you look into a man called Ron Killings."

Pen sounds scratch back at him as it gets scribbled down,

"Who's he?"

"He was an inmate I saw hauled off to solitary but according to the records he hanged himself last week. His roommate was one of the other guys who had gone missing and he was yelling himself hoarse about it in the chow hall the other day – ,"

Hunter butts in suddenly,

"Chow hall?"

"Cafeteria."

Hunter keeps on scribbling but grumbles back at him,

"I see."

"He was shouting about how his cellmate had been murdered and how everyone should be trying to figure out the truth, so if _I_ were a crooked guard trying to play the system then he is definitely a guy that I would want to see shut up."

By which he essentially means shut up forever instead of in the more fleeting _teach a lesson_ sense and his boss seems to agree with those sentiments entirely since he blows a sharp breath out which then turns into a heated growl.

"The asshole sure is pushing his luck here."

Bischoff –

Roman knows in an instant that's who he means and which isn't a surprise since the leather toting prison chief _has_ to be involved in what's happening somewhere, or else is totally innocent in the matter but is an absolute moron for not seeing something wrong and sitting up pretty and well paid in his office while his inmates are hauled out in body bags one by one.

Hunter sighs,

"Alright, leave it with me – _both_ of those things you asked for, okay?"

"Sure thing boss."

"Take care of yourself in there."

It is the last thing he says before the older man hangs up and then no doubt grinds his fists into the hardwood and mutters a few choice swear words out and the image of which is so reassuring that Roman can't help but sort of smile a little bit. Speaking with the boss man is like touching base with life again and acts as a reminder that the world is still there and hasn't blown up or broken down in his absence and is patiently waiting for him to come home again.

 _Damn_.

He grunts and hangs up the receiver before stretching out his limbs and turning around, with the intention of heading on back to his cell room to make sure his adopted prison brother is okay and hasn't somehow managed to find trouble of ended up with more blood messages smeared across the walls.

He gets two steps before he notices the figure –

Frozen by the doorway and glaring into the room with big blue eyes that look fixated in bewilderment and a million other feelings including fury and pure hurt.

Roman gapes back,

"Uce – ,"

But Dean is already moving and fumbling to throw open the heavy phone room door in a sudden turn of pace that beats the big man easily and leaves his heart pounding.

 _Oh shit_.

Dean knows.

* * *

 **Oops, but I said you wouldn't want to miss this one. Or the next one because there is a whole lot of hurt. Roman has a lot of explaining to do but will Dean want to listen? Find out next time.**


	18. Not Your Brother

**Uh oh, so there is quite a bit of tension in this one. Will Dean forgive Roman? Will Roman be able to explain? So many questions so lets get into it. Popcorn at the ready?**

 **Hayley1001, Yep, poor Dean is going to have multiple bombshells dropped on him in this story. But then Roman is having a hard time too, so at least I am spreading the hurt out evenly and not favouring either boy. But yeah…Dean is going to be happy at all!**

 **Skovko, Yeah, sorry, but I felt I had to acknowledge that Hunter has been a good guy in at least one of my stories, even though he plays a much better villain! Don't talk to me about heat either! It's been 34 degrees centigrade here. I straightened my hair the other night and almost collapsed!**

 **Daisysakura, Yep, poor Roman. The guy has been playing it cautious and tiptoeing around so much he forgot to do it when it counted the most. Don't expect Dean to be too forgiving though or understanding because…hey, we need some drama right? Well, good news because here it comes!**

 **Squeegee Beckinhime, Well solitary will certainly be coming up at some point, but I'm going to be mean and not say when, how or why *waves hands to create air of mystery* Yep, our poor boy had to find out eventually but the fallout is going to be pretty big!**

 **Guest, Piling on the drama for you, including in this chapter where the boys get to have a talk…or more like an argument but that's kind of the same thing!**

 **Cheryl24, I'm not sure who I feel more sorry for in this situation, Roman or Dean. Both boys are going to have it tough in the next few chapters. But it had to be done. Roman's secret couldn't stay buried forever even though he wishes it had!**

 **Mandy, Aww, thank you. But would you believe me if I told you that I often struggle with the endings of stories and chapters more than anything else? So thank you for complimenting that part of my writing *hugs*. But yeah, lots of drama coming for our boys now and lots of hurt too!**

 **Stingerette1975, Suffice to say that Dean feels a lot of hurt in this chapter. His brother/best friend/buddy/safe place lied to him, so there are going to be a lot of emotions. Plus there is even more drama coming up in the fallout…but you'll have to stay tuned for that!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Many thanks! Getting into the serious drama now (not that there wasn't drama before but now there is going to be even more of it!)**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yep, no sunshine and lollipops in this one and maybe even the next one too? Well Bray will certainly be making an appearance pretty soon but I'm not going to reveal the capacity yet, so you'll just have to see if Dean is willing or not when we get there…**

 **Minnie1015, Well, I felt like there hadn't been a proper cliffhanger in my work for a while and it kind of seemed like as good a time as any! Suffice to say that our poor Dean is going to be very hurt by the lies, so I can't promise anything about working together *walks of whistling*…**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Nope. I'm really putting Dean through it in this one. His best friend has died (not that he knows it yet) and his new best friend has lied to him from the start. Roman is going to have a lot of making up to do. A WHOLE lot!**

 **KyanaM, Hey, nice to have you back. Don't worry, I know how crazy life can be. Glad you're still liking it including the addition of mad Mick Foley! Dean being protective of Roman was cute, but we're going to flip that in a little while and bring protective Roman back to the front!**

 **Gonna be some hurt here…**

* * *

 **Not Your Brother**

Because he doesn't know which way the copper blonde has headed, Roman takes a chance and takes the steps back to their room, bursting through the threshold then blowing a heavy sigh out at the person stood in front of him.

"Uce, thank god, listen man – ,"

Blue eyes flash,

"To what? You gonna lie again? Play me for a fool for another fuckin' month?"

He is pretty much as angry as the bigger man has seen him and not without good reason given what he must have heard and which is likely the reason that his body is vibrating like he is readying for take off or else is possibly about to burst. His fists are balled up tight beside his hip bones and he looks like he is seconds from maybe throwing a right hook but which is stifled only by his haphazard pacing as he turns himself in circles in the gap between their beds.

Roman keeps his voice as low as he can manage it,

"I never meant to play you."

"Oh is that fuckin' right? So _that's_ why you spun me a whole load of bullshit about havin' your laptop taken an' fuckin' punchin' a guy out? I mean – _fuck_ – you must 'a thought I was some real fuckin' idiot to swallow that shit without a single damn word an' I guess you were right because I fuckin' _did_ believe you – ,"

He breaks off suddenly with a dispirited sounding laugh or like someone has told a joke he shouldn't laugh at but he can't help himself because it's funny as hell.

Roman wets his lips,

"How much did you hear babe?"

Dean spins towards him then stalks across the room and the bigger man braces for a fist to hit his temple only to find that the blow never lands but turns instead into an angry pointer.

" _Don't_ fuckin' call me that."

Dean physically spits the word out but still doesn't swing which is a marginally good sign, although he obviously feels like his world has been broken and not without good reason since he has no one left now and it makes the bigger man wince on pure instinct because it would have been kinder to have stabbed him through the heart. He tries again though because he needs to hear the answer as his eyes watch the copper blonde turning lost circles on the ground.

"How much did you hear?"

"Is that all you fuckin' care about?"

Roman blows a breath out,

"Come on, you know it's not."

Dean snorts back and the noise is pretty cutting because the copper blonde is going in no holds barred style and landing each comment and barb like a hammer blow which judders through the both of them but still doesn't ease up.

Dean boots his locker,

"You think I'm gonna tell the guards, huh? Let 'em know they got one of their own guys locked up? Pretendin' to be a no good freakin' scumbag or a no hope fuckin' asshole just like the rest of us?"

Roman frowns swiftly,

"That ain't how I see you."

Dean plucks his prison issue shirt with a grunt and then throws his hands wide like there isn't any recourse left open to the big man _but_ to see him like that and to which he then tacks on a grumbled little question that it clearly hurts to ask.

"So you're a detective or what?"

Roman pauses –

He could always deny it or laugh it off like the copper blonde has maybe gone insane, or tell him that the _boss_ he was talking on the phone to was some mafia kingpin and not his precinct captain at all but which wouldn't be able to fill the many gaps in or even be fair.

 _Does he know your identity?_

 _You mean that I'm a cop?_

Frankly there is no damn recovering from that line and so he blows a heavy breath out and then looks up into the gaze, finding out the waiting and shimmering blue irises and trying hard to ignore the bruised emotions they contain. Because while on the outside the copper blonde is fuming and likely an inch from hitting him or _anything_ , on the inside he is hurt and so damn wounded which is the hardest part of all of it.

Roman won't lie to him again.

"Yeah uce, I am."

Dean flinches at the nickname but thankfully doesn't blow up in his face, which is probably because he is too busy working _stuff_ out but could also be the fact that he likes being claimed and has spent the last few weeks being somebody's brother and isn't prepared to instantly give that up again.

He nods back slowly, still trembling with anger,

"Why the fuck are you in here?"

"We got a tip-off about some stuff."

Roman holds back from spelling it out too blatantly because the full truth is liable to set his rampant fury off again but means that he is then caught on a knife edge between not wanting to draw attention and not wanting to break his friend.

Because that's what is happening.

Dean is slowly breaking and it is _his_ god damn actions that have taken them there and ripped away the solid foundations they have fostered and made the younger man feel betrayed and alone again.

"Uce – ,"

Roman puts out a broad hand on instinct in a subconscious attempt to rub it fondly through the hair but is met with total and utter resistance as the copper blonde growls and then swiftly backs away. Roman is still stood blocking the doorway so he knows that his brother can't bolt and charge off but it has the downside of making the leaner figure feel cornered, not to mention snappy as hell.

"Touch me again an' I'll break it off."

"Easy uce, I'm sorry okay?"

"M' not your brother."

"Yes you are, that ain't changing _ever_ you hear me?"

It is a point on which the bigger man isn't prepared to argue because regardless of the truth of why he is locked in with him, nothing else that has happened between them has been faked and highlighting their bond is his way of trying to prove that and for a second it makes the blue orbs flicker up a bit.

"Can't fuckin' trust you."

Roman blows a breath out,

"I know uce, I know it probably feels like that, but don't think for a second that I didn't _want_ to tell you."

"Yeah right."

"I _couldn't_ tell you, not if I wanted to keep us safe."

Dean snorts again but some of the fight has slipped away from him and in response his shoulders dip back to their usual shrugging height and he turns his face to study the concrete flooring as he sucks a long hit of air in,

"Callihan is wrapped up in this whole thing, right?"

Roman blinks,

"What?"

Dean waves a hand bleakly but refuses to lift his pointedly averted gaze like maybe the blue eyes are teary or reddened which the bigger man gets glimpses of but can't outright see.

"Sami – my former cellmate – he's involved in this shit isn't he?"

Roman nods back solemnly,

"Yeah uce, he is."

"This about the fact that he didn't get his brain meds?"

"Partly but not entirely babe."

Dean seems to see the writing on the wall somehow and so lowers his head further like he is waiting for the body blow and then clenches his fists tightly as he bites the bitter words out knowing the answer fully.

"Never made it out of here did he?"

"No."

" _Fuck it_."

Dean spins away from him quickly and with such sudden fury that it seems some piece of furniture or the room will earn a kick but instead he simply stands with his head lightly bobbing and his shoulders straight up trembling like he's trying not to cry.

Roman steps towards him,

"Uce – ,"

"Fuck."

It comes out a second time but is totally devoid of the earlier punch and then swiftly tapers off beneath a sad little head shake which is followed by the leaner man sliding down into a sit and bouncing heavily on the unforgiving mattress as he struggles to grasp the full limits of his loss.

Roman watches balefully,

"I'm sorry babe, I mean that."

"Which fucker was it?"

Dean is eager to place the blame and looks up sharply for the first time since the news broke through eyes that are intense but suspiciously red rimmed.

"We don't know yet."

"Fuckin' bullshit."

"I'm not lying uce, if we had all the facts then they wouldn't have needed to send me in."

In terms of general answers it seems to be the right one because instead of keep on pressing him or tossing out cuss words, the copper blonde blinks and then turns back again, breaking the contact to peer down at his fingers which are interwoven tightly but clicking and moving all the same.

His gruff tones are even more raspy than usual,

"You got any ideas yet?"

"I'm working on it babe."

"Sami isn't the only one who didn't make it is he?"

It isn't a question but instead more of a fact and so rather than try to lessen or sugar coat it, Roman simply breathes out heavily and nods his big head,

"No he isn't."

"How many?"

"We're still counting."

"Do you know _why_?"

He asks it with a hitch and practically has to force the final word out because it's doubtful that he can find a way to make it all stick or an angle from which it isn't completely crazy and which the policeman knows well since he's been doing the same for weeks. Roman takes a chance in the quiet that follows and crosses over to his own bunk before parking loosely on the edge, so that he and his roommate are almost directly opposite but far enough away for Dean to have some precious space.

He sucks a breath in,

"We're still kinda trying to figure it but it might have something to do with selling on drugs."

Dean laughs bitterly,

"That's the only reason?"

"Plus the fact that he can pocket the costs."

It is something that the undercover man has been considering since the moment he clapped eyes on the car magazines, because in theory if the warden was bumping off his inmates but pretending to the state that he was still fully stocked, then he would keep on getting paid a fee to maintain things which he could then siphon into his own _convertible fund_ while keeping standards low and inmate numbers limited to make sure that he could oversee and monitor everyone.

Dean blinks up again rapidly and sharply,

"You said _he_."

Roman nods slowly in reply,

"I did."

"You mean the warden?"

Dean is almost ridiculously knowing to which end there is no point in spinning him a tale because it is more than likely that he won't believe it anyway and besides which he straight up deserves to hear the truth.

"Yeah, I mean the warden."

" _That's_ why you wanted in on cleaning, so you could get into the asshole's office I'm guessin' right?"

Dean snorts but it isn't an amused or understanding sound and is instead pointed and blunt like he is admonishing himself, like maybe he should have pieced things together sometime sooner and not have let himself get completely blindsided the way he has.

Roman takes a chance,

"I could kinda use your help babe."

He figures that maybe they are over the worst but then finds that small hope fading as the cell doors start buzzing then slide themselves shut, locking them in as the blue eyed glare flickers over and then holds the undercover man in a wave of contempt which shivers through his body and lets him know he's not forgiven and that it is probably going to be a very long night.

Dean lies down heavily and then turns his back on him,

"Fuck you man, you an' me are fuckin' _done_."

He evidently isn't kidding on that point either since the rest of their evening is spend horribly mute with the exception of the nightmare the copper blonde gets caught in somewhere around the break of a pale dawn and from which there seems to be no hope of salvation.

Roman has lost his best friend for good.

* * *

 ***Ducks* Remember, I said no throwing things!**

 **Next chapter there is a whole bunch of drama and some of our new friends pop up, but I won't say who or why or where because...well...I'll see you next time!**


	19. Something's Wrong

**The fallout of Roman's big secret continues in this one and it is not going to be very pretty either…**

 **Hayley1001, Good news then because I have even more angst for you in this chapter. Roman is going to feel very guilty after this one but hey, that's what we like right?! Poor Roman *sighs* I'm being very mean but I have to be because that's my job here right?!**

 **Skovko, Definitely, not only does he feel like he's lost his brother but also the guy that makes him feel safe from prison attacks will actually be like a walking target if people find out who he really is. Not that Dean is exactly immune to trouble himself…**

 **Daisysakura, Hmmm, maybe I can't promise that anyone makes it out alive…or maybe I can…or maybe I can't or…yeah, you get the idea! Dean is a pretty bright little cookie and especially because he feels stupid about being duped he worked out the rest in record time!**

 **KyanaM, Awww no, not the tears! I can probably promise that it will get better…but only if it can maybe get a little bit worse first because I do love my angst. But yeah, poor old Roman, he's only trying to do the best he can and he's in** _**jail**_ **. Rough month huh?!**

 **Cheryl24, *Ducks thrown object* Haha missed me! Um, so yeah about the whole Bray staying away thing, I'm afraid I can't really promise that because…well, I mean, it's Bray so he's going to do whatever he wants to do. I mean, it's not like he listens to me right?!**

 **Minnie1015, Well, you know what they say about fixing something, that right it has to be torn down? Well, I'm not sure that Dean is kind of broken** _ **enough**_ **yet and I don't think Roman feels quite guilty** _ **enough**_ **, so I might just test that a little bit with this chapter 'kay?**

 **Mandy, Awww, thank you so much *hugs back* and you have no idea how much it means to me that you're always right there reviewing and building me up. Can't be a good writer without good readers! And good news, because the raw emotions continues in this one too!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you! Gonna be more drama in this one too, because if you thought the boys were going to kiss and make it straight up again in this chapter…then nope!**

 **Guest, Glad you like it, but this chapter is going to be even more punchy than the last one…possibly literally too, but if you want to know what that means, you'll have to read on!**

 **Stingerette1975, Yep, poor Dean has always been lied to and abandoned by people, even when it wasn't their fault (looking at you Sami…which should probably mean I'm looking at me because I wrote it) but he's taking the Roman thing hard. And as for getting worse? Um…**

 **Raze Olympus, *Puts on tin hat* Whoa there now, still got a ways to go before the ending, so a happy one isn't totally out of bounds. But first we gotta get into the nitty gritty, bare bones of the fallout of his lies so strap yourself in for the next couple of chapters!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Hopefully that swig of wine was the only one you had? It's just you** _ **might**_ **wanna save some for this chapter too. Just as an aside. But yeah, both boys went into their brotherhood with the best of intentions, but a hurt Dean is a non-thinking Dean and the boy is pissed!**

 **Here goes then…**

* * *

 **Something's Wrong**

Roman wakes suddenly to a bright burst of sunshine and the horrible sensation that he has slept for too long and which sends him up onto his feet in a stumble as he untangles the bedsheets and tries to fight down his alarm.

"Uce?"

He throws a quick glance at the twin bed and finds the thing empty and messily made which means that Dean has likely gone to pull together breakfast in the same way he does six days of the week. Roman swipes a heavy hand over his features and then grumbles out a syllable which ricochets right back and underscores the pure frustration he's still feeling as well as the loathing and bitter regret,

"Damn."

His head is spinning from a night of sleepless worry and his mind is awash with the image of hurt blue eyes and by fragments of sentences and a gruff sounding timbre that belongs to one man.

 _I can't fuckin' trust you._

Dean.

Roman groans loudly and then swings his bare legs out, cursing a little as his feet meet the floor the levelled concrete texture of which is frozen and makes him shiver as he gropes to shrug himself back into something half warm. He wonders with a lurch how the other man is feeling and whether he managed to get any sleep at all and perhaps more importantly if the morning has settled him or else made the betrayal seem even more acute. Not that there is anything he can do by simply sitting there and so hauling himself upright with plenty of grumbling he shuffles to the basin and splashes water onto his face before tying his hair back and sucking a breath in as he steps through the doorway and off down the stairs. He is heading for the chow hall, which seems the best solution since he hasn't had a thing since lunch the day before and for a man of his stature that is no laughing matter and is pretty idiotic –

Plus it's where his cellmate is.

He makes it as far as the ground floor of the cell block and past the commissary before he hears himself called and so half turns towards it but carries on walking because he knows from the brightness that it isn't his copper blonde.

"Roman, _buddy_."

Floppy hair comes bounding towards him, framed above a beard and a perpetual limp but also by a beam of such genuine proportions that it lights the whole place up.

Roman greets him in low tones,

"Mick,"

Foley chuckles like his own name is amusing before rounding off his greeting with a mammoth slap to the spine, which thwacks out loudly and even stings just a little to the point where the lawman has to fight back a wince. His bulky friend seems not to notice however,

"I've been hoping to run into you."

"Uh huh, why is that?"

Roman keeps his stride long as they stalk through the cell block in the vague hope that maybe it will shake the man off and so therefore can't help but sound mildly distracted as he fixes his eyes forwards like he is out stalking prey. Foley pats his own chest suddenly with a big palm and then sucks a deep breath in,

"Listen."

Roman does and then frowns a little at the strange demonstration which seems solely based around his colleague's lung size and in that respect is no more or less of a party trick than anyone with halfway normal breathing function could match.

He blinks in confusion,

"Uh – ,"

"I'm fit and back to normal."

It hits the undercover man like a thunderbolt at once and he actually stifles a hiss of understanding because he doesn't want to make it too obvious he forgot. Not least since he has already managed to lose himself one friend and isn't keen to burn what is likely the only other bridge he has left.

He smiles instead,

"Right, hey that's good man."

"Allergies."

"What?"

Foley chuckles then shakes his head, like he is about to unveil the greatest anecdote in history and needs a few seconds to prepare for the punch. He leans in closer then drops his voice to a murmur but is still grinning broadly,

"They say I'm allergic to dust."

Roman blinks,

"Huh?"

"I know, I know – pretty crazy – but they're telling me I can't go back to the cleaning again and so that means you're gonna need yourself a new partner, so if you've got someone in mind – ,"

He doesn't even pause,

"Dean."

Foley frowns back beneath the oversized eyebrows and then rubs his beard absently which makes a light grating sound and is obviously something he likes to do when he is thinking or else possibly bored or even hungry as well.

He looks up questioningly,

"Dean huh? Is that your roommate?"

Roman nods back then holds down a grunt since he isn't really sure if the copper blonde if anything besides a pissed off prison inmate that he _used_ to know well.

Foley is still thinking,

"Where does he work?"

"Breakfast shift."

"Okay – yeah – I could do that, you think your boy would wanna straight swap me?"

It is another damn question that is debatable at best but since the undercover man isn't keen to spill his business or his brotherly fallout like some gossiping teenage girl, he simply shrugs his shoulders briskly in response to it and then rumbles loose an answer that is vague at best,

"He might."

Foley gestures his hand roughly along the corridor and towards the chow hall doors which are fast coming up but seem void of the usual buzz of activity that trays of hot and halfway decent food conjure up.

"Is that where you're headed?"

"Huh?"

"To find your cellmate?"

Roman shakes his head and a strand of hair falls loose, wrapping itself unhelpfully over his temple before being pushed back roughly,

"Nah man, I'm here for breakfast."

He is at least in part, but the main draw is admittedly getting eyes on his brother and trying to figure the level of his hurt and whether he is liable to forgive him sometime ever or take the opposite view and throw him straight to the wolves, or else potentially the crooked warden which wouldn't be much better but on the bright side might save him another black eye.

Foley whistles,

"Wow, sorry man, you missed it, they packed _that_ show up about two hours back now."

Roman throws a sharp eyed glare at him,

"Two hours?"

Dean always heads right back to the cell after work and so the fact that he is therefore missing brings up alarm bells which Roman rapidly tries to fights back down. After all, it seems reasonable that in the cold light of morning, the frazzled copper blonde might want some time to himself or else lots of time not spent in his roommate's company which the bigger man probably can't even blame him for.

But still –

But still there is something that niggles him because even in the midst of an outright bitch fit, he knows that the younger man would choose to slouch back through their cell door and torture him with agonizing silence instead rather than mooching for over two hours around the unfriendly prison perimeter that he hates.

 _Wrong, something's wrong_.

Roman knows it in a heartbeat and so puts out a hand as they come up to the doors and pushes inside with a sudden burst of panic that has been harnessed and shaped through years of being on the force and having learnt to trust his gut and base instinct.

Foley follows mystified,

"I'm telling you man, the food's all gone."

Beyond the flapping doors the chow hall lies empty but sparkling clean like it has never been used and totally silent which doesn't feel right either because there is usually somebody banging a few pans or hauling in potatoes and carrots for peeling but suddenly there is _nothing_.

Roman surges across the floor.

His skin is starting to prickle uncertainly and his brown eyes have narrowed into instinctive _police mode_ as he drinks in every last shadow and detail and wishes to hell that he still had his damn gun.

Foley frowns somewhere behind him,

"What is that?"

He is talking about a low murmured noise, that seems to be echoing from out of the kitchens but is oddly lilting and rhythmic and sounds gruff. Roman turns his attentions towards it and ignores the nagging feeling that is twisting around his gut and crosses the space before ducking past the counters and hustling swiftly around the corner.

"What the hell?"

He stops dead.

Bray Wyatt – who has clearly _not_ dropped off the planet – is sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the wall and his long chunky legs stretched right out in front of him, but his creeptacular pale eyes are fixed unblinking dead ahead. He is singing a random tune that isn't especially identifiable but is deep and eerie and unusually slow and as he hums it out one of his paws tousles something that is spread out beside him in an unmoving slump.

Roman's heart turns over on instinct.

Dean.

Bray Wyatt is god damn _stroking_ his friend.

For his part the copper blonde seems totally out of it with his eyes closed and his head lolling heavily in the swamp man's lap and although his curls are being fondled untidily his forehead is marked by a bullseye type welt that is starting to grow into a big reddened duck egg and is clearly the result of having been hit pretty hard or else potentially driven headfirst into something –

Like a hillbilly boot or maybe even a wall.

He is moving though, barely but it means he's not unconscious and the knowledge of that makes Roman blow out a breath and then inwardly lurch as his cellmate lifts a hand up and groggily tries to push the molesting touch away. Bray however merely pinions it down again and then continues to tangle large probing fingers through the hair, like someone has given him a copper headed puppy that he is loving to death.

Roman erupts,

"Get your god damn hands off him you son of a mutha."

He is struck with the feeling that the whole thing is his fault because if he had just been honest in the beginning then his brother would never have been even vaguely on his own and instead they would be sitting reading books in the library and trotting round the yard like they usually would do and yet there his best friend is, in the arms of a madman and only semi-conscious.

Bray blinks and then looks up, almost like he is only just seeing the newcomers but his smile is toothy,

"He isn't for you, the world ain't ready for this one, he ain't like you."

Roman steps in closer,

"I said take your hands off."

He is honestly a second from ploughing in bodily and physically punching the bulky man back but Foley grabs him suddenly and turns him a little as the two swamp brother minions grunt then lumber into view. Mick doesn't seem like a man to back down from anything but in spite of running into things using his cranium, he is obviously not as insane as he basically looks and so is by no means prepared to launch into full battle against three fully grown and frankly _mutated_ men.

He murmurs from behind him,

"Easy, take it easy."

Bray's grin grows even wider and he starts singing again, letting the words tumble clumsily across his beard growth but louder this time, like he's trying to make a point in the knowledge that it will bolster the tension between them and up the creepiness factor by a clear country mile.

"Saw it with my own two eyes, wipe off that grin, know where you've been, it's all a pack of lies."

Roman blinks since it sounds sort of familiar but has nothing in the way of an actual tune and is complemented by more of the unwanted tousling that is making the copper blonde screw up his face and frown. Dean cannot have the first damn clue what is happening, but is aware enough at least to know the touch isn't one he wants and so he grumbles and tries to twist groggily out of it and in response his furious roommate also tries to bridge the gap,

"Let him go, _now_ , or I swear to god – ,"

Bray looks up at him and the movement stops his lackeys who are also shifting in close. For a second they all stand in a weird sort of silence and then, without warning, Bray leans forward to kiss Dean's head in a creepy ass move that makes the policeman's heart lurch over and briefly stuns him bodily into staying where he is.

"Be seeing you boy."

For a man of his proportions, the cult leader actually moves pretty damn fast and slips himself out from beneath his fallen victim in the time it takes the other two men to blink, slithering back to stand between his brethren and stare across the room as Roman quickly takes his place, gathering his fallen friend into his body and hating the way the copper blonde feels so limp.

"Uce?"

Bray grins again,

"This isn't over."

But the next time the detective looks up, the man is gone.

* * *

 **Remember I said no throwing? Because that still applies! But of** _**course**_ **Bray would be lurking right? He's** _ **Bray**_ **.**

 **Next chapter we have the fallout of this fallout chapter, plus a very unexpected cameo (and I use the word loosely...you'll see!)**


	20. Real Friendships

**Unexpected cameo in this one that I genuinely was super unsure of while I was writing it. Back now I'm glad I put it in. Hope you like it (hint: it's not a person!)**

 **Daisysakura, Twisted in a good way though right?! Anyway, you're right of course but you can't blame me for the last chapter (entirely) because I got that whole part from a backstage segment where Bray jumped Dean in a corridor IRL so I kinda might be in the clear on this one! Good news too because Roman will be on the warpath coming up!**

 **Stingerette1975, Yep, Roman is going nowhere without his brother. Foley is going to be in and out of this story too, so the good news is he's sticking around. Besides which his experience in the concussion department certainly comes in handy in this chapter as does one of his other *ahem* unique skills.**

 **Hayley1001, I honestly feel like now that Bray is diluted on TV and not the same creepy cult leader he was, that WWE needs a new really freaky, sort of supernatural villain. But Bray will always be my go to bad guy! More angst coming up in the story (lots of it) and lots of protective Roman coming up too.**

 **Cheryl24, Haha, thanks. Skin crawling is totally what I was going for with him. But it's not too hard because the guy is so creepy that he pretty much manages to write himself. Even without his creepy little lantern and being rocking chair-less doesn't take off his edge. More creepy Bray coming up for you too!**

 **Mandy, Glad I put you on the edge of your seat. Got some more chapters like that coming up (or at least I hope they're like that!) Fiercely protective Roman is the best type of Roman. Being like a lion when he's facing off with the bad guys and then being all touchy feely and sweet with his buddies once he's cooled down. I love writing that!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Yay, thank you. In this chapter we have the fallout from the last one because boy is there a lot of that. Not that Dean is going to remember much of it…**

 **SkittlezLvr79, True, the chapter wasn't very Dean angsty, but poor old Roman was certainly feeling it. I like to think that Bray has an inbuilt compendium of creepy lyrics that he kind of pulls loose to up the chill factor when he has some poor soul in the clutches! Or maybe he's just a big Phil Collins fan? Stranger things have happened right?!**

 **Guest, Aww, thank you, I'm so glad you're enjoying it. Got a little way to go with this story yet but I love my boys too much to hurt them too bad. Well, that's a lie, I like hurting them a lot but usually not irretrievably if that helps?!**

 **Raze Olympus, Haha, nope, firstly you cannot smuggle shotguns into prison because they have that netting over the top to stop drone deliveries (Warden Bischoff is smart like that). Also, Bray is going to around for a little bit longer because…well, he's Bray so that's kind of his thing. He pops up next chapter too so look out for that one!**

 **Minnie1015, *Takes bow* Why thank you very much. I wish I could say I planned that from the beginning but even though I have the bare bones of a story I pretty much make up the minutiae as I go so as impressed as you were when you read that part over, I was probably more impressed that my brain came up with it in the first place!**

 **Skovko, Nope, I think slopping oatmeal into plastic trays may have suddenly lost its appeal for him! Not that I can exactly see him brandishing a hoover anymore than I can see him brandishing a hairnet and a ladle. But hey, it's prison so he doesn't really get to make the choices (plus more importantly it fits my story…shhh!)**

 **Concussed Dean coming up…**

* * *

 **Real Friendships**

Between them they manage to get Dean vaguely upright although he doesn't so much stand as instead sort of slump, with an arm wrapped heavily around each of their shoulders and his poor broken head lolling and bobbing with every move but totally clueless as to where he is going which he tries to put across in a series of mumbled grunts,

Roman soothes him as he braces the lighter body,

"Alright babe, you're gonna be alright."

"Ro – ,"

Dean can't manage the second of the syllables because clearly it means putting in too much work, but the hint of awareness is reassuring in spite of it and makes the big man fight down a tiny hitch,

"Yeah, it's me."

"Bray – ,"

" _Easy_ , I know uce and you don't have to worry babe, his ass is gone."

Except not in the fire and brimstone way he should be since the bayou man is still somewhere lurking around and therefore still poses a threat to their safety which is unsettling at best and potentially ruinous at worst.

Roman looks up,

"Can help me get him back to our cell man?"

Foley nods his big head quickly,

"Sure."

Dean grunts too but it isn't coherent and nor is the general manoeuvring of his feet since he can barely knows his own name or birth date or gender and so therefore simple walking is almost completely out. Nevertheless they still manage to shift him, partly suspending him between them as they strike towards the doors, inching their way as he slaps his soles down heavily and encouraging him like proud parents watching their kid at the big game,

"I gotcha uce, that's it, you're going great babe."

"Watch your step now, easy man."

It still takes them pretty much a god damn age though and by the time they hit the threshold, the copper blonde is half spent not to mention vibrating with effort and grumbling his dissent with every eked out step. His head is pillowed up against his cellmate's rib cage and his awareness is floating rapidly between there but mostly not when Foley stops them with his fingers around the handle,

"We're going to have to play this next part carefully."

"What for?"

"Because if we go out there with him looking half conscious, then the guards will know that something went down,"

Roman grunts back then clenches his fist tightly and it sinks without him knowing deeper into his brother's arm and elicits and small sorry mutter of protest that jolts him back out of it and makes him briefly calm down.

"Something _did_ go down and they should damn well know that."

Mick shakes his head,

"Not how it works, they'll likely throw your buddy here into solitary for fighting, you want that?"

Roman sucks in a sharp breathe.

"Hell no."

He means that too, with every fibre of his being considering that those who get punished with time in isolation have limited chances of making it back out unless they are being wheeled to freedom on a trolley in the direction of the prison wing morgue.

Dean will not be having the same fate.

Especially not when he hasn't done anything wrong other than try and get on with his existence, which has for unknown reasons caught the attentions of a madman with a penchant for violence and the trilling out of folk music not to mention unwanted tousling –

Foley nods,

"Okay partner, leave this to me."

"Leave what?"

"You'll see."

He is off and away again before the big man can question what he means in a delft little slide between the doors into the cell block but with enough of a bounce to hint that something is coming up, which from a man who enjoys headbutting things for amusement could either frankly be brilliant or else truly bizarre.

"Ro – ,"

Dean mumbles then slumps down a little further without the bulk of the second man to keep him held up and in spite of it sounding like the start of a question, it falls into concussion based nothingness instead.

"Still here babe, I've still gotcha."

Roman hefts him a little higher instead and then tightens his grip around the skinny little middle all the while listening out for the distraction or the signal to move, whatever the hell _that_ is. It comes however, in the form of sudden laughter and the muffled sounds of speaking like someone is holding court, but is happily void of the crash of falling furniture or the mass wave of bellowing that usually comes with a full scale brawl and so the big man pokes his head out, then blinks –

He blinks _several_ times and then splutters out a mystified,

"What in the hell?"

Mick Foley is stood up on one of the tables that the facility has set up for the inmates to sit around, holding one hand towards his face by the elbow and staring intently at the well hidden fingers which seem to be encased in an off-white sock.

Roman blinks.

Nope, it's definitely a sports sock and one which the floppy haired man is _chatting with_ before going through the motions of listening to the answer as if the thing has the ability to physically speak.

Foley nods at it,

"That's right Mr. Socko, it _is_ getting pretty kinda dull around here, what can we do make it feel better?"

He bends his hand in closer and then looks pointedly across the cell block, meeting the brown eyes of the undercover officer and giving a tiny, surreptitious little nod before going right back to being a party entertainer for a roomful of convicted murderers and baffled looking guards.

 _Go_.

Roman moves quickly and pushes across the threshold while bracing his copper blonde cellmate to his hip and hauling him clumsily behind the impromptu puppet show and past the thick cell doors to the mezzanine steps. He latches firmly onto the railing and then pulls hard against it in a hand over hand ascent, lifting his battered brother up with his other arm and grunting with exertion as they slowly inch up each tread.

He is halfway up when he hears a guard sigh heavily,

"Foley, come on now, that's enough."

It is an order that is met with genuine consternation as if the big and burly men who are hanging in the cell block are reluctant for the _man and sock_ sideshow to end and which they probably are since the usual entertainment is guys trying to shank each other with knives whittled from toothbrushes and cans.

"What's the harm boss?"

"Get out of here, the lot of you, this ain't a damn theater."

Roman clears the top step and then braces the copper blonde as he stumbles against the grating before turning him swiftly in the direction of their cell and grunting as they cross the threshold together in a tangle of heavy and overworked limbs.

Dean screws his face up,

"Nuh – wher' m' I?"

Roman backs him up until his legs hit the bed and then steadies the sudden downwards shift in trajectory by grabbing his friend's shirt folds and lowering him onto the sheets since letting him hit the mattress from a height or too heavily is likely to jolt his poor battered head.

He grunts under the weight,

"Easy babe, we're back home now."

 _Home_.

He blows a snort out then smiles wryly back, because that isn't what the tiny whitewashed cell could ever hope to be and yet it in spite of all that it is where they both feel safe not to mention very vaguely settled in the much broader scope of unpredictable prison world.

Dean hums,

"H'me?"

"Back in our cell uce."

"Oh."

Dean then responds by twisting his face into the sheets and rubbing himself a tiny little pillow using the tip of his nose to make a comfortable nest and turning his head in several directions before finally seeming to hit the right patch. He drops his cheek down and then blows a long breath out that sounds a lot like the precursor to sleep and it sends a jolt of panic through the big man who cups his face roughly,

"Dean hey, _no_ , open your eyes up."

" _Mmm_ , f'ck you m'n."

It comes out slurry but by no means lessens the meaning of the words and is why when Mick Foley tramples in through the doorway it is to the bigger man trying to pry open the drawn blue eyes.

" _Dean_ , you gotta wake up for me now babe, your ass can't be sleeping."

Mick brushes him aside and then sets about performing some sort of head inspection that Roman watches from all of two inches away but with big brown eyes that drink in every motion and the big bullseyed welt that stands out red and proud.

"God damn it."

He hisses the words out fiercely then blows out a breath and runs his fingers through his hair, in a tension relieving impulse that usually makes his copper counterpart beat out a tune or twiddle his thumbs.

Normally at least.

"Does he need a doctor?"

Foley chuckles back at him borderline wryly like the mere idea of professional assistance is anathema to how he has chosen to live life and is instead some new-fangled feat of technology that nobody has ever been able to make him use.

He shakes his head,

"Nah, he needs a little bedrest, should be good as new if he can just sleep it off."

Roman nods back but the projection isn't convincing since the copper blonde seems like he is dead to the world and is carrying so much of a ghostly sort of pallor that the whole _death_ analogy doesn't look too far off and sends a shiver through the bigger man's system that he cannot hold back,

He frowns a little,

"You sure?"

Mick glances up then raps his skull with a knuckle like the gesture passes muster as a medical degree but is instead a reminder that head injuries are his business and so his word is therefore law.

He chuckles back not unkindly,

"Oh yeah, I'm pretty sure."

Reassured that his cellmate isn't about to expire, Roman lets the copper blonde pivot himself onto his side and then nuzzle his battered head into his pillow as the full weight of sleep grabs and carries him off. Roman reaches down and pushes the fluffy bangs back in a comforting move that makes the younger man sigh and is so far and away a subconscious gesture that he doesn't even realize he had actually done it until Foley snorts fondly,

"What?"

"No, nothing man, it's just nice, not too many folk in here make real friendships."

Roman blows a breath out,

"Yeah."

Is that what he and Dean have?

Maybe they did once but that's no longer a given considering the fallout of the previous night and the sense of betrayal that had graced the quirky features when the copper blonde had realized that his cellmate was a cop. How or if they can ever get over that pretty much still remains to be seen and yet Dean had called for him in the depths of his concussion and had seemed contented by his presence.

That _had_ to be a good thing?

He is haunted by the image of Bray Wyatt god damn touching him and treating his helpless brother like an overgrown ragdoll and the reasons for which are still a total mystery as are the means by which Dean ended up so hurt. Foley too is clearly thinking along the same lines, or else Roman inadvertently says it out loud, since he takes a seat on the warped mattress heavily which makes it bounce and then dip low beneath his weight so that Dean almost rolls a little and then smacks right up into him which makes him grumble out a little groggily,

"F'ck you."

Roman smiles but Mick seems not to hear it since he instead turns his gaze towards the his co-worker big dog and levels him with an unusually stark expression that clearly wants answers,

"Wanna tell me what that was?"

"Which part?"

"Bray Wyatt, what the hell is going on with them?"

He is fishing for the nature of the relationship with Dean, like the copper blonde has somehow had a hand in the shitstorm and which makes Roman glower back in heavy warning,

"It's not his fault,"

Foley lifts his hands up,

"I'm not saying it is man – ,"

"Wyatt has some god damn obsession with him and I ain't gonna put up with it much longer."

"What are you gonna do?"

Roman pauses briefly but he is mentally replaying the same horrific image from before, when the big clumsy hands were touching and probing and pushing their luck.

"I'm gonna take his ass down."

* * *

 **Next chapter Roman pays a visit to the Wyatt family to end the beef once and for all...he hopes...**


	21. Prize Fight

**Remember what happened the last time Roman tried to 'help' when it came to the Wyatts? Um, yeah…**

 **Hayley1001, Mick is such an asset in this story, I'm glad I decided to throw him into the mix! Glad you liked worried nursemaid Roman in this one. I love writing him all fretful over Dean. They just have such a wonderful dynamic that makes it easy to imagine these scenarios! Hope you like this chapter too!**

 **Daisysakura, Roman certainly has payback on his mind, but luckily he's too clever to just go brawling in the middle of the prison. Boy wants to avoid solitary after all! Not sure I can ever top the Mr. Socko cameo to be honest, but hey, if nothing else then I can certainly try! I kind of like the image of Foley giving puppet shows to criminals though!**

 **Cheryl24, Haha, to be honest I think he's such a damn weirdo that even the prison is worried about making Bray disappear because he would probably come back in a puff of smoke since the guy is clearly not human in the least. Or they're worried about him haunting the place, because the only thing worse than Bray is a translucent Bray *shudders***

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Awww, glad this makes your Ambreigns heart happy. Pretty much all my stories are based on their friendship dynamic because I cannot get enough of it. Touchy feely boy best friends are the best thing in the world! Hopefully we get some more of that when Dean gets back on TV (come oooonnnnn Summerslam!)**

 **Wolfgirl2013, *Blows kiss* thank you, got some tension in this one and Roman and Bray facing off…kind of anyway. Hope you like it but better get out your swamp lantern!**

 **Stingerette1975, I like to think that for all the crazy Roman has seen since he's been in the prison, watching Mick Foley entertain a bunch of hardened criminals with an anthropomorphic sock on his hand is the thing that he will remember the most! As for his payback on Bray? Well, he…um…he tries…**

 **Rebel8954, Haha, glad you liked Mr. Socko…I wonder what he did in order to be locked up? Hmmm. Roman is certainly going to try and end things with the Wyatts but he is trying to stay on the right side of the guards so he has to be careful about letting those fists fly. But he has plans…sadly however so too does Bray.**

 **Mandy, Don't go celebrating too soon on that one. Remember Bray always has a trick up his sleeve…or up his garish Hawaiian shirt…or in this case up his orange prison jumpsuit! Not that Roman is a slouch on that front either. So this chapter is kind of going to be a battle of wits. Time will tell who's going to win though!**

 **Minnie1015, Aww thanks, I could see Dean rubbing his head into the pillow too. Is there anything better than a cold crisp pillow? Basically I think I will always partly seen Dean as an overgrown puppy, meaning he plays hard and fights rough but then he likes to curl up and be all peaceful and like a little baby when he sleeps…or is concussed as in this case!**

 **Skovko, Hey, Skovko and Mr. Socko nearly rhyme! Have you thought about joining with him for a double act perhaps?! Dean and Roman are going to sit down and have a much needed conversation in the next chapter (lots to be said…lots and lots) but for now we have Roman trying to be a good brother and warn the Wyatts off. Um…yeah.**

 **KyanaM, I never know whose fault it is when email alerts don't come through because sometimes this place can be a little bit technically wormy. Either way, glad you got a double hit of chapters! I know, I'm really being mean to Roman in this one, but on the plus side we get to see the full range of his emotions and especially the protective brotherly/best friend ones!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Mr. Socko is the one non-human cameo I have ever included...unless that time I made Miz a dog counts?! I think the guards look on Mick as pretty harmless unless he's running headfirst into things so he might be okay on this one. Yep, Bray is not a man that takes threats well besides, the man likes a challenge and Dean and Roman are in his sights now!**

 **Cue creepy music and firefly lights…**

* * *

 **Prize Fight**

Bray's cell might as well have an exclusion zone around it, since the guys that Roman passes as he tramples towards it seem jittery and super keen _not_ to hang about, like being there for too long will suck them in somehow or earn them a beating.

Roman straight up doesn't care.

Instead he simply sets his glower and crosses the polished concrete in a vengeful looking stalk that carries him right the way to the end of the corridor and then in across the threshold.

He doesn't bother to knock.

"Bray this shit stops now, you hear me?"

He barks the words out in a vicious sounding snap and is rewarded as three bearded faces swing towards him with a measure of surprise that he has never seen on them before and in the moment is damn pleased to have been the one to place there because it shows that maybe the three big bayou monsters are flesh and bone _humans_ in spite of it all.

Bray is sitting cross legged on the mattress like he is summoning some deity from the shadowy spirit world while his ever present lackeys stand hovering around him either waiting for orders or the command to sit down. In response to the sudden and unexpected arrival, they each of them tense up in furious alarm and for a second it feels like the fallout will be unstoppable or the beginning of some bloody and unholy prison war.

Roman is ready though –

If that's what it comes down to, because the sight of his cellmate prone on the linoleum and being downright molested has turned the screw a notch too far and the campaign of stalking or obsession or _whatever_ needs to be stopped.

It's the reason he's there.

It is also the reason that he will happily fight for it since he figures that fists are the currency that work best and which proves to be true when Harper lumbers towards him like the bouncer of a nightclub running a _no tattoos_ rule. Roman tenses and then wills the man in further as his fists twitch to bury themselves into a face and the urge for which is so god damn powerful that he would happily face solitary if it gets rid of the thumping rage.

Foley had warned him as he had stalked out of the cell room,

"Go easy pal, be smart about this."

But in the moment it is hard to remember much of anything beyond the copper blonde man comatose back in their cell with a raised red bump sitting high above his eyebrow and curled into the sheets like a battered burrito roll.

Harper is almost fully on top of him and the tension is thick enough to cut with a credit card but then a raspy voice barks out loudly towards them and stops the bearded hulk pretty much dead,

"Luke, simmer down."

Bray has reached a hand out and is pulling his child of the corn back by the hem his prison issue shirt which technically shouldn't make a difference to the mammoth but seems to have an instantly magical effect.

Roman keeps on glaring but to a point beyond the lackey and focussed instead on the hillbilly boss who is still sat cross legged but less proudly than he had been like for once he's not the one who is holding all the cards. He still smiles though in a knee jerk sort of movement that is beginning to seem more reactive than forced, like maybe the eerie beaming is a fracture in his psyche or else has been adopted over years of abuse.

Maybe not though.

Maybe he's just a psychopath.

Bray then fuels that notion by throwing back his head and letting loose a laugh that bounces in off the walls at them and is so harsh sounding that it hangs in the atmosphere like in the first few seconds after a bomb has gone off and that seems to suck the air from around them as if the hillbilly stalker is some god damn natural _force_.

He knows it too, which is why he keeps grinning,

"Your boy belongs with me and my family."

"Nah, see now that ain't gonna fly because your ass don't get to make that decision."

Bray blinks too slowly,

"It's out of my hands, it isn't my choice to make now, it's _hers_."

Bray points skywards and god actually help him if the policeman doesn't briefly look up too like maybe there is some deity pinned to the ceiling or a clue to what the hell he is talking about, which could quite literally be anything between a mere flight of fancy, a living breathing person or else some spurious sun god from which the hell ever weird ass cult they choose to worship.

But instead there is nothing and so he replies with a growl,

"If you come near him or try to touch him again ever – ,"

"You'll what?"

It comes out as a genuine question and is accompanied once more by the violent head quirk as if the beard growth is somehow hampering his hearing or like the swamp monster is having trouble finding a meaning in the words.

Roman doesn't flinch,

"I'll kick your ass so badly not even your own mother will recognize what's left."

"Like last time, huh?"

Bray revels in his comeback because clearly he thinks that the taller man should remember the _last_ time they met it was he who came off best and at the memory of the beating he had received in the showers, the policeman grinds his teeth and then snorts out a breath,

"Easy to get the jump when you got a god damn yellow streak."

Roman knows the sentence will get a reaction the moment he lets the thing fall from his lips and so finishes it up with a smirk of satisfaction because he _wants_ to see the swaggering hillbilly pissed. He wants to see what it takes to get him riled and how far he has to force it before he loses his shit and stops engaging the messed up brainstem and starts reacting on a base level instead.

It turns out to be even easier than he'd figured –

Bray twitches a single eyelid,

"What did you just say?"

 _Hell yeah._

Roman shrugs back in response to the question and then absently begins to rub at a wrist in a gesture that is meant to look purposefully indifferent or like the bearded cult leader is below his pay grade and which he emphasizes further by making his tones looser and borderline bored,

"Ain't that the reason for these two?"

He lifts a finger and then waves it casually between the two hovering overgrown beards, who stiffen but otherwise remain frozen like statues since they haven't been given the orders for their release and which is pretty much the most unnerving feature out of all of it because he has no damn idea why they are loyal to him.

Mind control?

Emotional abuse?

Plain old blackmail?

Briefly he imagines what the scene might look like were the eerie cult leader to get his hands on Dean and turn him into another mindless sheep of a lackey but that he knows in an instant could never be a thing. Dean is too bright and too god damn _lively_ to ever be beholden to someone like that. He is too pumped full of varied quirks and personality for a person or force to be able to hold that back or turn him into something grey and shapeless.

Dean is too _alive_ and besides, Roman has his back.

Back on the bed on the thin little mattress, the bearded bayou savant is breathing too hard and forcing out a tiny little whistle sound on the exhales which squeaks out loudly in the stillness of the room. His meaty fists clench and then unclench rapidly and his eyes catch fire and light up the whole space until they positively crackle with unbridled fury which carries in his tones,

"I could still beat your ass."

"You keep on believing that."

Roman leaves the rest unspoken like he finds the thought of them being any match physically a pretty damn humorous sort of a leap and which fuels the next sentence which snaps out predictably and just like he had figured,

"Name your time and the place."

"If I win you back the hell away from my cellmate and you _keep_ your ass back."

Bray narrows his gaze and then smiles like he realizes the bigger man has played him but appreciates the sportsmanship nevertheless,

"So what happens when _I_ win this little royal rumble?"

"That ain't gonna happen."

"Does it mean I get to have our boy without another fight?"

Roman feels an icy sort of shiver ripple through him as the never-ending back and forth verbal one-upmanship swings back in the favor of the bayou man once more, like some warped and potentially life changing game of tennis being played across a cell block instead of some neatly trimmed lawn.

He shakes his head,

"You ain't getting nothing."

"Maybe little lamb should be the judge of that hmmm?"

"You leave his ass out of this."

Bray snorts in response to him and then waves an all too airy hand around, like he is fast getting bored of the whole damn situation and which he then underlines further by looking beyond him with a stare.

"We'll meet in the shower block in five days to settle this and I'll make sure it's empty."

He chooses not to say how he will managed that or elaborate on his sway with the other inmates in the place but is probably based on nothing more than raw terror and the fact that is eight kinds of creepy and weird in a way that not even the most hardened of criminals know what to do with or want to have to cross, but which for once might actually work in their favor since the smaller the audience the better it will be.

Roman sucks a breath in,

"I'll see your ass there bitch."

Harper steps forwards at that point in warning and the policeman takes the movement as a subtle hint to go, which he does in a backwards trample towards the threshold, never taking his eyes off the glowering man. He has got what he came for in his shot at resolution and not wanting to try his luck or trigger things early he inches from the room and then turns swiftly to go but is stopped by a barked out amendment to the bargain which chills his bloodstream and ices his bones,

"I won't be fighting you, I'll fight little lamb for his freedom, only seems right and fair don't you think?"

Roman spins back in barely held fury as the words filter through him and he clenches his fists, only holding off from unleashing them bodily because both Harper and Rowan are blocking his way and thanks to the prison guard sloping towards them and checking each cell idly for signs of affray.

" _Damn it_ that isn't the shit we agreed on, this is my fight."

"Then I'm changing the bill, take it or leave it."

"Wyatt – ,"

"Five days, then it's over."

It is the final word he has to say and in response to it his lumbering lackeys move forward, responding to the unspoken signal to get him out and leaves Roman no option but to grit his teeth and exit with as much of a sense calm as he can feasibly muster up.

From saving his brother to booking him into a prize fight in the space of five minutes.

How in the hell had it gone so wrong?

* * *

 **Next chapter Dean and Roman have a much needed conversation. But will it go better than their last one?**


	22. The Memory Train

**Time for the boys to have a long overdue conversation then, I loved writing this chapter because it has all the feels and because naturally I love writing anything between the two of them. Hope you guys like it though…fingers crossed I guess!**

 **Hayley1001, Roman only has the best of intentions, but sometimes that old protective streak of his ends up doing more harm than good. Rest assured though the topic of 'the fight' will be one of their concerns going forward, but then, they're going to have a whole** _ **bunch**_ **of concerns!**

 **Skovko, Mr. Socko and the Forest Cow sounds like the best band that has never existed! Which is probably why I'm now demanding that you make it happen! Hmmm, I'm pretty sure that Dean probably knows more dirty fighting tricks than Roman! Maybe the teaching should have to be the other way around?!**

 **Daisysakura, Bray is completely insane, agreed. Plus I think he feels like he has met plenty of 'Roman' types before and has a measure of them. He's not interested in big and brawny, he likes kooky and offbeat like Dean! But yeah, conversation and then some training, the boys have a lot to be getting on with!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you, back to the boys in this one, because they need to get past their problems and get back on the same page. There's a crooked prison and a swamp monster to deal with. But they need to face some hard truths first!**

 **Cheryl24, Haha, now I have the Rocky theme stuck in my head, thanks for that! You might want to kick that soundtrack in at the beginning of the next chapter though, because then it will be perfect! Luckily, Dean isn't too much of a slouch when it comes to fighting. He did grow up on the mean streets after all!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Bray is such an opportunist. He's like a hyena or something or a vulture just waiting to pick off the scraps. Is it wrong that I love that about him though? He knows Dean will come in swinging and he knows he can out muscle him so he figures he's already won. But first the boys need to clear the air a bit (okay a lot!)**

 **Minnie1015, Roman is totally trying to do the right thing, but he's from a nice neighborhood and a nice family, so he's never met anyone quite like Bray, so I think he keeps forgetting how sneaky the swamp man is. Plus, he does kind of have a few other problems to be dealing with, so I guess we can forgive him making things worse?! Maybe?!**

 **Stingerette1975, Roman's number one priority at this point and going forward is going to be Dean's safety more than anything else. But yeah, accidentally making a fight for him is kind of a misstep. He does feel bad about it though! Lots of Roman and Dean moments in this one. I like to think it's the chapter they need!**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, I think, if nothing else then we have established that police man Roman is too damn pure for prison, because he thinks that the others are going to play be the rules. Hmmm, not so much with Bray. But yeah, big brother Roman is only trying. Not his fault his makes it worse (okay, so it's kind of his fault!)**

 **Mandy, Oh no, sorry to hear about your loss and sorry that you had a crappy week. I totally understand needing log off and be away from everything for a bit. Everyone needs to recharge their batteries. Hope you're feeling better now. I'm sending hugs either way. Hope this chapter gives you good vibes. Oh what the heck, have some more hugs…**

 **Okay then, talk time…**

* * *

 **The Memory Train**

The first thing he registers on becoming newly conscious is the fucking mariachi style thumping in his head, that thuds out a beat on every bone in his cranium from his tender feeling temple and then right the way through his jaw.

How is it possible for his jaw to have a headache? Is that – is that even an actual _thing_?

The second sensation he feels is confusion or possibly a dull sort of nausea or maybe both, since they seem to hit within moments of each other and then trouble him equally through the ever present thump. He feels a little like he is battling a hangover but cannot remember having had any booze although he distantly recalls smuggling in a bag of pruno and then wishing that he hadn't but that had been weeks ago, hadn't it?

Lifting a hand which feels weighted and leaden, he swipes it clumsily and too hard down his face, knocking his fingers against a lump on his forehead that stings like the devil and makes him hiss,

"Son 'f a bitch."

Instantly in response to it there is the creaking of bedsprings and then a big looming presence right beside his aching head and he opens his blue eyes in wary apprehension expecting to see something but instead finding black.

 _Fuck_.

Is he blind?

Big fingers find his forehead and then gently begin to smooth back his hair and although the sudden touch makes his body jolt briefly it isn't too long before his heart rate settles down, because the pressure is rhythmic and pretty damn soothing and so is the voice that accompanies it,

"Uce? You back? How are you feeling?"

Dean frowns a little and then blinks into the room, relief flooding through him as colors make themselves known again in delicate shades of grey and inky blue and which are followed by outlines in the cold space around them that are helped by a chink of light from underneath the door.

He wets his lips hesitantly,

"R'man?"

"Yeah, it's me babe."

His cellmate's low tones are an instantaneous comfort and quell some of the swirling shitstorm banging in his head, which is positively screaming at him on a whole range of topics that stretch from establishing what the hell is happening through to why he can't seem to put his memories in a row.

"Feel like cr'p, head h'rts – ,"

"It will do."

"Why?"

"You remember anything?"

Dean thinks about it,

"No."

Except that part isn't entirely truthful because in spite of the fact that his skull is bellowing at him like he has missed some appointment or else left the stove on, it is also throwing back images and flashbacks that have all clumped together in some mashed up montage. He can see himself hunched hurling over their toilet which must be where the pruno memory was from and he can see his big roommate sporting a vicious black eye and the feelings that had come with his brother being injured by their shared mortal enemy and –

He blows out a groan.

" _Bray_."

Like the memory train pulling into the station and unleashing its waiting passengers, he can remember the whole thing, from the bearded cult leader being fucking transferred back again, to his beating up Roman and then the kitchen attack on _him_ and hearing the note of sudden understanding, his still lightly tousling cellmate presses him gently,

"What happened babe?"

Dean grumbles the answer out slowly and thickly since neither his lips nor his tongue seem to work, at least not in a way that makes him sound sober but is enough at least to put what he remembers across.

"Bray came bustin' into the kitchens, made everyone else scram then started shoutin' an' shit."

Roman's hand ghosts over the head welt,

"What about this?"

"Threw me into a wall – I mean – I _think_ , I can't really remember, kinda goes all fuzzy."

His vision is slowly returning to normal and it confirms that he has woken up in the middle of the night and also explains why his bigger broader cellmate is speaking in a tone that is both low and lightly hushed, even though it still carries notes of bitter anger that prove oddly reassuring but at the same time feel weirdly off. Because bubbling away beneath the husk of what has happened is another slow burn memory that is begging to get out and seems to strike them in precisely the same instant since in the exact same second that Dean is beginning to unravel it the older man addresses the issue for himself, starting by hauling another long breath in and then rubbing his face,

"About last night uce, look – ,"

"Fucker."

Dean breathes the stunned sounding word out heavily but there are notes of startled revelation in it too because his brain has snapped back on and the engines are whirring with gut wrenching clarity.

 _Holy shit_.

"You're a _cop_."

Roman blinks slowly in what reaches them of the moonlight, but his face remains impassive as he replies with a nod and a look like he is bracing himself heavily for the brawling or the censure assumes is about to fall out.

"Yeah, I am."

Dean could technically be a total _shit_ about it and go off on the bigger man and never let up and the truth is that a part of him desperately wants to do that but at the same time there is something kind of gnawing at him as well, which bubbles up in him and then suddenly needs explaining since it seems more important.

"Hold up, how – how did I get back here?"

Huh?

He cannot remember making the short walk and nor can he fathom why it hadn't drawn attention since there is no fucking way that he _didn't_ look drunk or else didn't fall down or trip up and stumble, which is precisely the sort of thing that guards and inmates look for because weakness is like a flashing fucking beacon.

Roman blows a breath out,

"I found you."

"Where?"

"In the kitchens, with that god damn asshole all over you – ,"

Dean blinks,

"Bray was – he was still _there_?"

Instead of answering him directly however, the bigger man tenses and then twitches a lip in a clearly held back movement of fury which he hides even further by turning away and gazing towards the frosted glass window like he is somehow admiring a pleasant country view and it strikes the copper blonde with a sudden sort of gratitude that sounds awkward in the stillness but needs to be said,

"I owe you man, thanks."

"That isn't why I did it."

He chooses not to throw in the rest of the sentence but it hangs between them unspoken anyway because they both of them know that their friendship means something and that the bigger man had saved him out of brotherly love.

Dean softens slightly,

"So they sent you undercover huh? I mean, that's gotta really – like – fuckin' _suck_."

Roman looks back with a hesitant sort of tension although he manages to offer out a wry little smile, that teeters around the neatly trimmed facial hair and pulls his lips up,

"Yeah well, it ain't all bad, see I ended up with this crazy ass roommate,"

"Sounds like hell."

"Man, you have _no_ idea."

"Bet he's a naturally beautiful kinda fucker though and a killer with the ladies."

Both of them snort and the teasing then gives way to a comfortable sort of silence in spite of its being loaded with a million unsaid thoughts and more loose ends than an unfinished poncho or maybe the bizarre ass finish to _Lost_.

Roman sighs suddenly,

"I'm sorry I lied uce."

He sounds utterly genuine and it echoes around the room and although the copper blonde feels himself start to rankle, the feeling slips away almost the second that it's born and instead of blowing up in the way both of them are braced for he merely shrugs his shoulders,

"Pretty good reason man, I mean, out of everyone that's ever kept important shit from me, I get it, y' know?"

"You do huh?"

"I guess so, 'sides this isn't exactly the right venue to go tellin' the fuckin' world that you're actually a cop."

"Not the world no, but I should have told you babe."

Dean grins suddenly,

"Yeah uce, dick move."

Roman beams back and the expression is such a broad one that the tension breaks up like ice sheets and swiftly melts away and a sensation flows through their icy little cell room that feels a lot like familial warmth. Dean thinks so anyway, but then again he's no expert, or at least not up until the bigger man palms his head again and tousles his tangled curls back up and off his brow line before scrunching them gently in big protective tucks.

Dean blows a sigh out,

"So what's the plan big dog?"

"The plan?"

"For your mission, or whatever it is you got – figured your next move out?"

Roman pauses for a moment and then issues a grunt and takes back his hand, which he moves instead to tangle with the other one in an absent but strangely unsettled sort of motion that isn't Roman-like and makes the copper blonde stop,

"Maybe. I have an idea at least."

"Okay, so what's the problem?"

"The problem is that I might need your help."

"Mine?"

Dean coughs out a bark of astonishment which rattles around the whitewash a little too loud and then bounces back to assault his thumping headache and he grunts a little and snaps shut his eyes.

No more laughing for a while.

Maybe ever.

Beside him his cellmate lifts from the mattress with a bitterly loud squeaking of well worn springs and Dean hears the sound of the faucet and running water before it shuts off again and the bigger man pads back. His blue gaze snaps open at the very same moment that an icy cold washcloth is laid over his brow and although the temperature sends a lance of surprise through him it also feels amazing and he blows his thanks out,

"Fuck."

Roman grins,

"That feel better?"

"Fuckin' orgasmic."

"In that case, forget I asked."

Dean moves the cloth to a point above his eyebrow and then looks across to search for the big features in the dark, which are pretty unsurprisingly staring back at him and as usual are totally non-judgemental and calm.

"So what do you need me for in this big fuckin' plan of yours?"

"Can you pick a lock?"

"Does the pope wear a hat?"

"I need to get into a cabinet."

"Where man?"

Roman's brown eyes flicker up briefly and he steels himself a little before offering the response, which is then so completely and utterly unexpected that the copper blonde briefly assumes he's misheard,

"Bischoff's office."

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? How in the hell am I meant to do that?"

"Foley needs to swap his cleaning work assignments, you could replace him."

Dean barks again but the noise is caught midway between amusement and outright wonder because he feels like he has been launched into _mission impossible_ but he likes it too since it feels pretty punchy and thrilling in a way that prison life rarely does.

He stops himself suddenly and sobers,

"Did he do it? Is Bischoff part of whatever happened to Callihan?"

Roman blinks back for a second,

"I'm not sure babe, that's why I need to open that drawer."

"In that case, I'm there."

Dean stares back from beneath the washcloth, but there is purpose and conviction burning hard in his gaze and in response to it the undercover cop nods at him slowly and then offers his battered roommate a tentative smile,

"Thanks uce."

"So, is there anythin' else you think I should know about?"

He asks the question with a broad sort of grin because he is mostly only kidding on that one since that has to be pretty much the whole fucking deal, but clearly _isn't_ since in the silence that follows, Roman lifts a hand to scratch his awkwardly at his head, then pulls his big brow into a wince of apology before blowing a breath loose,

"Uh, there _might_ be a thing with Bray – ,"

* * *

 **Back on the same page then! Could never have them at loggerheads for too long. I missed my best friends/brother vibes because god knows we're not getting them on TV at the moment.**

 **Normal service resumed next time and the boys make plans.**


	23. No More Oatmeal

**Ladies and gents, we are now in the final third of this story so after this chapter we'll be picking up speed as we roll towards our inevitable conclusion. But first, the boys need to get themselves a plan and maybe figure out what to do when it's all over. Hope you enjoy it! Also...anyone watch RAW last night?! *Massive grin***

 **Hayley1001, Haha, sorry, but you get to find out Dean's feelings below and it seemed like a good point to round the chapter off, sometimes you gotta leave it up to imagination. But I promise this chapter won't end on a cruel note…of course there will be some more cliffhangers to come.**

 **Guest, Thank you, hope you like the rest of it because things are going to get pretty wild before the end!**

 **Cheryl24, Haha, I just got an image of Dean as Bray's prison wife wearing an apron and doing the ironing and now it's stuck there…so thanks for that! If Bray wins the fight then Dean has to become a Wyatt and slope around with them and possibly grow a long beard I guess. Basically Bray will feel like he owns him. Creepy huh?**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Well I'm always happy to make you laugh at something kooky Dean has said. He's so much fun to write because he can literally say anything! Honestly I think that Dean has been through so much now and what with the Sami news, he can cope with Bray. Or at least he thinks he can anyway!**

 **Stingerette1975, Gotta leave you wanting more! Luckily though, I go into that a little bit more in this chapter, so I'm not leaving you hanging completely. Last chapter was the boys getting back on the same page and this one is the next step after that, because they still have a whole bunch of things to talk about…like corrupt jails, swamp men, life when they get out. Boy talk!**

 **Skovko, I would never let them not be on the same page forever, it feels wrong, like the world is out of balance somehow or like something is off somewhere. But all good now, well, not** _ **all**_ **good obviously because they still have a hell of a lot of problems to figure out (more than the average number probably, oops, my bad).**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Dean is kind of used to being on the ropes I guess, with his crappy life. Plus he has concussions still, so that helps to soften the blow (no pun intended but pleased its there!) But still, probably not the best thing that could have happened to him. He can't catch a break here!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Yay, thank you, its always better when the boys are back together (that wasn't supposed to rhyme by the way). Got them hatching some plans in this chapter, happy reading!**

 **Minnie1015, Back together like they should be, could never keep Roman and Dean at loggerheads for too long. I know you love your drama and discord though, so best of both worlds right?! Honestly I'm not good with complicated TV shows…I watch TV to relax damn it not to take a Mensa entry exam!**

 **Mandy, Oh man, tell me about anxiety, it sucks…mostly anyway. Sometimes I can see the positives. I mean, without my anxiety I wouldn't care half so much about things or have been given my promotion at work. It probably sounds wacky but I wouldn't be as successful without my anxiety. Blessing and curse for sure! *Hugs and solidarity***

 **Daisysakura, Yep all is now good in Ambreigns brotherland (which would absolutely be the best theme park in the world on a side note). Never could have kept them apart forever, it hurts too much, lol! But yeah, perfect excuse to have Roman fussing about like a big tattooed mother hen. God more of that in this chapter too, so fill your boots!**

 **Cue the Rocky theme music…**

* * *

 **No More Oatmeal**

Dean takes the news that the resident hillbilly and cult leader stalker wants to fight him pretty well. In fact _so_ well that the next day finds him tucked in the training room in front of punching bag with Roman by his side but wearing a brown eyed look of apprehension that he voices with every last hook or thrown jab since he evidently feels that his battered looking roommate should be tucked up in bed with headache tablets and ice.

"You still good uce?"

His question is a rumble and expressed in relation to the bag swinging back and catching the copper blonde hard on the shoulder which jolts through his body and sets the concussion flames alight.

Dean blinks it out and then shrugs,

"Yeah, m' fine man."

It seems pretty patently clear he is not but because he is a man and a prisoner and fucking _stubborn_ , Roman simply sighs and lets the pretence carry on while constantly scanning their surroundings for trouble in the form of bearded bayou men or _anything_ else and which is so fucking comforting that Dean grins lightly and lets loose a chuckle.

Roman frowns at him,

"What?"

"Nothin' man, keep goin', what were you sayin'?"

Roman lifts a brow back but then quickly casts around the little gym room to make totally sure they're not being overheard and which is pretty unlikely since the other two people in there are pumping heavy beats that sound tinny in the air and are probably slowly laying waste to their hearing but means at least they're not listening and so neither man much cares. Roman speaks quietly just to make sure though,

"I'm going to have to distract him somehow."

Dean blinks,

"The guard?"

"It's how I got in last time and is the best chance we got to get your ass in and out."

Dean punches forward and catches the weight bag which creaks on its rusty little hook overhead and then lunges back where it meets his taped up fist again in a right hook that sends spasms of force through them both.

He nods idly,

"Okay, so what m' I lookin' for?"

"Receipts I'm guessing or numbers and accounts books."

"Y' mean like numbers from sellin' off the drugs?"

In the ten or so hours since he had woken up bewildered and nursing a headache the size of the sun, Dean had insisted on being told everything and his cellmate had responded by leaving nothing out, taking him through the tangled web of evidence and including the strings of deaths and the missing prescription drugs. He had even hesitated but then included the suicides –

Road Dogg, R Truth, Sami Callihan.

Plus a whole bunch more and with every last name that had bled into the darkness, the copper blonde had felt his resolve shore up and had listened to his fingers as they had twitched in frustration at the terror he knew the poor men must have felt and the fact that the victims had been hauled off and murdered like they didn't even matter.

Poor Callihan.

" _Fuck_."

He expresses the sentiments in time with a right hook that bursts from his shoulder joint and into the bag and which represents easily his most impressive haymaker since he had sloughed his way in there an hour before, but which also knocks the energy right out of him and slips a damn knife between the cracks in his head. In response to it he groans and then moves to grip his temples in an instinctive sort of hold to counteract the pain but in the process forgets about the body bag blasting back at him until the very last second. Luckily Roman steps in and wraps his arms about the casing to bring the weighty pendulum into a steady and much needed halt before reaching out a hand and tugging his cellmate back a bit to a spot where he is well away from the swing.

"Uce, you alright?"

"Hurt like a mutha, y' know m' pretty sure someone just stabbed me in the eye."

Roman grunts back and hefts a brow,

"No kidding, in that case I think that's enough for one day."

He puts his broad hands out before his roommate can protest it and turns him like a spinning top back towards the threshold before forcibly marching their asses on out, which the copper blonde pretends to grumble at a little but is actually pretty thankful for,

"C' mon uce, I gotta train, otherwise m' gonna be pickin' teeth outta my eyeballs."

"You really think I'm planning on letting this shit go down?"

"Can't stop it big man."

"I'm not letting him touch you, he's done that twice before and he's _not_ doing it again."

Roman seems pretty unflinching on that point and _has_ been since delivering the news of the brawl, because alongside trying to bring down a corrupt prison he has apparently adopted his cellmate's health and happiness as well and so has therefore banned any notion of fighting but which has so far been totally and roundly ignored. Dean reaches over to pet his friend's shoulder,

"Listen man, not that m' not grateful for this _parent shit_ or whatever the hell y' got goin' on – ,"

"Dean,"

"But m' a big boy an' it's not my first turn on the dance floor _plus_ I'll see it comin' this time y' know?"

Brushing past an inmate who is slouching along the corridor, they turn the corner back onto the cell block floor and then strike out for the stairs to their own space where they are free to discuss things openly once more. Not that it doesn't stop them entering carefully in case their lingering nemesis has daubed blood on the walls again or is somewhere else doing some type of weird shit, like hanging from the ceiling or hiding underneath a bed. Roman merely sits down however heavily and although _he_ clearly isn't concerned about the bed thing, if the swamp man _is_ under there then he has probably been squashed dead.

"Uce?"

"Huh?"

"Where did you go babe?"

Dean blows a breath out and then vaguely shakes his head, like he is trying to brush away a lingering fog patch or else trap a little bit of common sense back in.

"M' good, still here."

He copies his brother and folds onto the sheets of his own thin bed before lying himself flat and tucking his arms behind his neckline to prop up and pillow his fucking _still_ thumping head.

Brain trauma is a bitch.

"Foley is putting in the transfer, so it should be good by tomorrow I guess."

"No more breakfast shift huh?"

"You gonna miss it?"

"Who's gonna make the oatmeal gloopy an' shit?"

He grins as he says it though because the wrench is not a big one and honestly he is better on clean up anyway and not solely because it pays him more credits but since it also lets him hang out like a teenager with his friend.

Roman snorts,

"Oh yeah, I'm gonna miss that, what am I gonna use to fill the cracks in the walls?"

"Fuck you man, you didn't deserve my oatmeal."

" _Nobody_ deserved that."

"Asshole."

"Bad cook."

In the silence that follows he lets his blue eyes flicker shut again but beneath a happy if not still heavily concussed brow and for a minute it feels like the two of them could be anywhere instead of in a reinforced concrete prison cell. He blows a short breath out,

"You lookin' forward to gettin' outta here?"

He knows without a doubt that the answer will be a _yes_ and so therefore isn't sure why he has even posed the question, or why the response he knows it will engender is already starting to turn over in his gut.

Roman pauses mildly,

"I'm looking forward to my own bed and seeing my family."

"It's gonna suck for me, I'll probably end up stuck with a pedophile or somethin'."

It is possibly the reason that the betrayal has sat so heavily and why it initially made him freak the fuck out, because it isn't so much the fact the truth was kept from him as the realization that Roman wasn't one of them and therefore would be leaving as soon as shit was over. Dean doesn't want that to happen at all. Luckily however the bigger man gets it and sees through the typically bullish retort and softens his tone just a little around the edges and lowers it to something that is soothing and warm.

"Hey, I'm not gonna let that happen, I'll put a word in and get you a single."

"Still won't be the same."

"I know uce, I know."

"Be a sucky nine months without you."

"But then you'll be a free man."

"Free an' homeless, fuckin' _great_."

He honestly doesn't mean to sound so bitter because wallowing in shit has never really been his thing, but at the same time the thought of rattling around the prison without his best friend is a pretty hard thing. Not least because he has a habit of losing those he cares about and mostly through no freaking fault of his own, so maybe he should be prepared to wave off his big dog?

Fuck that though, he's really god damn not.

"That's why your ass is gonna move in with me uce."

His eyes snap open in bafflement,

"What?"

Roman is staring across the space in between them but there isn't a hint of teasing on his face and instead he looks even and totally serious in a way that makes the smaller man's battered heart hitch.

"You're shittin' me right?"

"Nope."

"You'd let me fuckin' _live_ with you?"

"If you wanted to."

"I – you can't be – ,"

Dean can't find the right words and so instead tapers off with a blink of bewilderment and the heavy anticipation that the _roommate offer_ is still a prank and that the bigger man will suddenly whip the rug out from under him except he doesn't because Roman just is not that kind of man.

"One thing though uce."

"Uh huh – I mean – anythin'."

"No more oatmeal."

"You got it man."

* * *

 **Is Roman not the best? Roman is the best right? What do you mean I'm possibly leaving the door open for a future sequel?!**

 **Next chapter the boys go back to work and Dean gets his first shift on cleaning detail...**


	24. Make No Mistake

**Dean gets to show his worth in this chapter, plus we find out how Mick fares in the kitchen! Cast your votes below for who oatmeal you would prefer!**

 **Daisysakura, Roman is the best friend ever. He's just such a protector/provider. Plus he probably knows that Dean will get into trouble with him or without him so therefore with him is better than the alternative! Now I just need to see some Ambreigns brotherhood back on my TV and I'll be a happy little girl again!**

 **Cheryl24, Awww, yep, very happy that he's back but I will probably spend the rest of my natural life worrying about his arm or him doing anything with it, near it etc. Not sure I could cope with another lay off, it has been a long time. Lucky for me I've been pumping out stories!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Yay, thank you so much, got a bit more action in this chapter coming and then a whole lot of action coming after that as we build to our big climax!**

 **LHisawesome4ever, No. You. Didn't?! Oh my goodness you lucky thing! Did you have any clue it was coming? Sounded super loud on TV so I'm guessing some/most of that noise was from you then?! Awww, glad you were there for it.**

 **Stingerette1975, Dean is totally ready to get Bray gone from his life, plus having Roman in his corner definitely helps up his confidence levels. Dean will totally go for living with Roman, after all, he has nowhere else and nobody else come to think of it *cries hysterically***

 **SkittlezLvr79, Haha, well, the oatmeal question will be resolved in this chapter, which means the new question is who's to blame, the substance or the chefs?! Glad you brought up Bischoff because we've been away from him for a bit, but he'll be coming back big style!**

 **Mandy, Aww, remember to take it one step at a time, day by day, I try not to look too far into the future. I like thick oatmeal too, can't have it too sloppy. I like brown sugar in mine, cranberries sound far too healthy for me, lol! More goopy oatmeal in this chapter too!**

 **Minnie1015, Yep, I wrote this story as a one off, but I figure there may be room for a sequel some time when I hit on a good enough plot. Always love coming back to my creations, it's like putting on a comfy pair of pants!**

 **Skovko, Haha, well, it took a couple of re-watches but I'm already used to it now, so it's good by me. Need to see him being a bit goofy or carefree/smiling then it'll look more like him. Not ready for a heel turn quite yet so lets hope they hold off on that…at least until I get some Roman/Dean.**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Yeah, there may or may not be room for a sequel after this one some time in the future. Ha, Dean may lose his fluff in one story in the future, because I like to keep up to date, but I'm not sure in what or when! From bangs to fuzz!**

 **Here comes the master lockpick…**

* * *

 **Make No Mistake**

Dean gets his very first shift cleaning the offices the next day after the transfer goes through so which means that for the first time since he entered the prison, he eats a lukewarm breakfast he hasn't made.

It isn't good.

Roman grins wryly and then watches sympathetically as he pushes the unappetising oatmeal around, before handing over a small packet of sugar and nodding towards the counter,

"You'll hurt his feelings uce."

Foley is standing like a tower behind the sneeze guard with an actual oversized apron in place and a hairnet that he has swiped from where-the-hell-ever but also with a big old grin slapped on his face, ladling out portions of cement textured oatmeal like he's feeding the five thousand and has plenty left to spare and he has such a long reach that even those shuffling past him trying to grab a slice of toast end up with a pile. He sees them looking then waves at them excitably and lifts up a thumb,

Dean groans,

"Jesus Christ."

But they both raise surreptitious hands in his direction before the undercover policeman thumps on the table top and sweeps his tray up off the sticky feeling plastic before turning towards the cleaning station,

"We'll be late, come on."

In stepping through the locked doors that lead towards the offices, the copper blonde is leaving the prison block for the first time, in what is fast turning into a day of new happenings and is a tantalizing glimpse of the world he left behind. There are desks spread out in neat lines in front of them and all of them filled and topped with normal things, like pens and phone receivers that don't have card swipes on them and computers that aren't limited to one or two sites, not to mention family photos and candy bars and flowers and a million other items he has forgotten all about.

It's kind of too much.

Roman palms at his neckline and then steers him further into the room, while dropping his voice to a low sort of murmur that is easy and understanding,

"I know uce, I know."

For the first few minutes they do what they are meant to and push vacuums and dusters and spray polish around the room, all beneath the ever watchful eye of the prison guard who perches up against a printer and simply watches them work in between checking his watch for lunchtime and then blowing out breaths that sound idle and bored. Roman nudges the copper blonde at one point and then nods across the room,

"You see it?"

"Uh huh."

In one far corner of the big open plan style office is a smaller partitioned off section with its own door that he assumes is where their leather clad warden spends his hours and potentially hides evidence for all the things he has done wrong, which includes but is not limited to stealing medication and potentially being complicit in the hangings of several men.

Dean twitches –

Sami.

He can see it in his mind's eye and the thought of it makes his stomach flip and turn as he imagines his friend at the mercy of the warden and kicking his helpless legs out as he struggles in the noose. Dean swallows back a sudden ball of nausea and the spinning sensation that is making it hard to breathe and then physically tries to shake the vision loose again because that shit is something that he never wants to see.

Roman is watching him quietly,

"You okay babe?"

But before he can answer the guard pipes up and lifts a nasally voice above the desktops as he spies the lack of movement,

"Less talking, more work."

Dean rolls his eyes but then gets back to the business of pretending like he gives a shit about the hygiene of the place, while keeping his attentions fixed firmly on the corner where the warden likes to hang out and where the evidence could be kept.

Roman clears his throat,

"I've run out of product."

By which he means he has uncapped the bottle and poured the contents into a plant pot but which the guard has managed to overlook in his boredom and so doesn't suspect anything although he isn't pleased,

"What?"

Roman holds up the newly empty spritzer and then pumps the nozzle to further his point, which creates a hissing noise and a tiny spit of liquid but nowhere near as much as they both know should come out. In response to it the guard sort of huffs a weary breath out and lets his shoulders slump a little in defeat because the lack of cleaning liquid presents a real conundrum that he clearly has no previous training in dealing with.

Roman smiles thinly,

"There's more in the cupboard, I could just duck out and – ,"

"You're not going anywhere."

It is precisely the response that the bigger man has bet on and so he blinks in return and then holds his hands up, throwing in a shrug as a good natured gesture before chuckling mildly,

"Then this place won't get cleaned."

Dean is still hunkered down by one of the monitors pretending to empty out the trash but he still has a view of the baffled seeming prison guard who is standing in the doorway looking vaguely harassed. Eventually the officer gestures in his direction,

"What about him?"

"We'll be gone for two seconds man, what do you think he's gonna take in that time?"

Roman makes it sound like the whole thing is easy and the tentative looking officer seems to take him at his word, with a trustworthiness that will soon be drilled out of him in disciplinary action or potentially a prison brawl. It helps them however that the guy is a youngster and someone that they have only seen once or twice before and is therefore new to the life of prison guarding and the various pitfalls and unflinching rules.

Like leaving an inmate unattended for example.

Dean sighs –

Poor fucker.

The guard nods,

"Alright, but you stay here and keep doing what you're meant to, no touching anything."

Dean lifts his hands up and responds to the order that is flung in his direction with an actual snort that implies perish the thought and then follows through with a heart crossing gesture and a loose looking smile,

"I hear ya boss."

No sooner than permission is granted for the refill than the undercover policeman heads straight towards the doors and blisters through them with such sudden purpose that the poor greenhorn prison guard briefly struggles to keep up, but eventually slides from view hot on his heels anyway which leaves Dean standing still and very alone.

"Fuck."

In coming up with the plan to afford him some precious snoop time, the copper blonde had figured that it would take a while to come and that maybe he would be running his ass around with a vacuum for potentially a couple months before they got their big break. The first day therefore has not been on his radar but makes sense given the obvious lack of experience in their guard and so the moment the two of them have vanished from his sightline he turns and heads towards the sectioned off room, trampling over the thin office carpet and then letting himself in.

He doesn't have a lot of time.

Roman has already explained the sanctum to him so that he doesn't need to stop and get his bearings once he's in, which allows him to cross towards the big desk quickly and then hunker in low beside the precious locked drawers.

"Well hello there flimsy locks."

Dean fumbles in his pocket and then pulls out two small and tapering thin metal rods, which have been borrowed from the broken down springs of his mattress to make two tiny prods much like a bobby pin in size and that fit like a glove as he pushes them both gently and then arranges them in the lock in the place of a key. He bites his lip too like always does when he's picking because going through the motions of getting a lock open is a highly skilled and also pretty delicate thing and one he is surprised to find he's been actually fucking missing since doing it again brings a hell of a rush in.

There's –

There's just something about the precision of the manoeuvre and the concentration he has to pour into every last twist and how the delicacy of finding the angle of the channels stills his usual twitches and his bullishness a bit.

He actually grins when he hears the metal clicking sound,

"There you go baby, looks like we're in."

He slides the drawer open with his heart fucking pounding and then narrows his eyes a little because he's way out his depth now and staring in bewilderment at a ton of scrappy papers and scribbled in notebooks and messy files and bills.

"Shit."

He has no earthly idea what the hell he is searching for and so starts to hopelessly sort of rummage about, like his hands might land on the key piece of evidence if he simply bats papers around for a minute or more, but won't because that isn't the way the god damn world works and he curses to himself because he can't fuck things up.

Callihan needs him to get them some vengeance.

Dean curses once more and then really starts to look, picking up books and scanning them quickly in the hopes that a key word might suddenly stand out and being careful to put the pieces back where he found them since he doesn't want to blow it three hours down the line. Beneath the largest stack of loose files lies a notebook that fits in a palm and has obviously been well used since the cover is bent and the leather effect binding is halfway through the process of breaking up and peeling off. Dean frowns a little and then quickly flicks through it before catching sight of something that fast chills his blood and then peers in closer like he is somehow maybe dreaming it –

But nope.

Bischoff has written the names of inmates and staff.

Pages and pages of them, filling the notebook and each with random scribbles and annotations by the sides which the copper blonde is pretty much desperate to go through but is too busy flipping through in the hunt for one man and which he finds on the third page from the back in spidery handwriting and it's own set of notes.

Sami Callihan.

"Fuck."

His eyes scroll along to the first line of the comments but then quickly spring up at the sound of traipsing feet and although common sense says it is probably his cellmate, he can't hear any warning or the chatter of the guard.

Shit.

He slides the drawer back and then conceals the little notebook hastily in the pocket of his threads and has only just lifted the duster to the computer screen when a figure walks in and then stops dead.

Eric Bischoff.

The warden frowns at him for several long seconds then opens his mouth like he's not sure what to say but he doesn't scream at him or yell for any backup and in the grand scheme of things that's a positive leap of faith.

Dean blinks back,

"I – ,"

"Ambrose, isn't it?"

Blue eyes stare back across the room in surprise because somehow the fact that the prison boss knows him is by strokes an unexpected and chilling new step. But then maybe it isn't considering the booklet tucked in his pocket and burning a hole in his damn side and in which is a handwritten list of the inmates and enough further scribbles to imply opinions on each one besides.

He swallows down a lump,

"Uh, yeah, that's me y' know?"

"What the hell are you doing in here son?"

Bischoff asks the questions in tones that are easy but the words and his eyes don't carry it off and instead burn across the small space with such intensity that the copper blonde shivers a little but at no point breaks his gaze.

He holds up a duster,

"Uh, I got transferred onto cleanin', was told to spruce up the office an' whatever – ,"

"Not in here you didn't."

Dean plays dumb at once,

"Huh?"

"I only let guys I know and trust in this office and you haven't earned that right yet by any means."

Dean nods slowly,

"Sorry man – oh, uh – sir, I mean sir, y'know, not man."

Eric Bischoff eyes him back steadily and for a second it is like he is drinking the inmate in, or else maybe trying to commit him to memory and process and file every little detail. It isn't a particularly reassuring silence but there is precious little else that the prisoner can do and so stands and takes the mental assessment with a steely expression until the warden sucks in a breath,

"You've been here nine months, is that right?"

"Yeah, nine long months."

"Kept yourself out of trouble I believe."

"I try."

Bischoff nods,

"Good, best for you to keep it that way, now get out of my office."

"Absolutely sir."

Dean in no way needs to hear it second time and so quickly skirts back around the overly cluttered looking desk and across the plain blue carpet towards the doorway, but is stopped on the threshold as the warden calls out in tones of false cheer that carry added weight in them and succeed in sending a fucking bolt through his bones since it holds the punishment that he never wants ever,

"If I catch you in here again, it will be solitary at once."

* * *

 **Hmmm, so Bischoff now has Dean on his radar...that can only be a good thing right?!**

 **Next chapter we find out what is in the book, be there or be square (nope, even I can't believe that I really said that!)**


	25. Helpless Criminals

**Okay, we're getting towards the end of this baby, well, sort of, but we're going to sort of be moving that way over the next few chapters, so expect high drama coming your way! But first, let's find out what Dean uncovered from Bischoff's office…**

 **Wolfgirl2013, *Sweeps low in a bow of gratitude* Thank you muchly, glad you're still enjoying it as we rattle towards the end. Plenty of action and intrigue coming your way though, so seatbelts on after this one.**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yep, now Bischoff is very much in the mix as well as the ever lurking Bray. I haven't forgotten about Bray, I promise, he'll be making an appearance very soon. But the bad guy seesaw is going to start swinging in the next few chapters, so the balance may change!**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Ooh yay, glad you liked it, got a few more tense chapters coming up too, so hopefully they'll be just as good. Now that the air is cleared between them, its really fun to have Dean being right in the mix of all this crazy! He makes a very good undercover criminal-part-time-cop!**

 **Cheryl24, Haha, can you imagine if that was my big plot twist?! That all of the suicides were in fact suicides and poor innocent Bischoff has been secretly writing an erotic novel this whole time and has nothing to answer for?! I imagine his romance novel would be like the one in 10 Things I Hate About You…i.e. not that good!**

 **Minnie1015, You know, I wrote pretty much this whole story before realizing that the boys would have to break up at some point when (or should I say if) they crack the case. But hopefully when (or should I say if) we get to that point then hopefully I've come up with a reasonable answer…not that anyone necessarily makes it out of this alive (come on, I have to keep the tension up!)**

 **Mandy, Oh no, first of all I'm so sorry for your friend's loss, it's hard having to be strong for someone, but I'm sure you're doing everything you can. Yeah, the good news in this story is that Foley is as terrible at making oatmeal as Dean was! Got more of the Police Shield oneshots coming up as soon as this story is over, so get ready for those!**

 **Raze Olympus, Haha, I also imagine that Mick would lose more strands of hair in the oatmeal than Dean would, which is a pleasant thought I'm going to leave you with…but hey, it's prison, it's not like anyone would be expecting to have gourmet food right?!**

 **Skovko, Haha, I'll just get Dean to say that to Bischoff at some point, short and sweet. But yeah, lets just say that Bischoff may get even more unlikeable before the end! Not that he's the only villain prowling about that they have to deal with. I'm really going hard on my villain count in this story!**

 **Stingerette1975, Yep, Hunter is going to come into play in this story a bit more, especially after this chapter given what they find out. Always good to up the ante by having Dean in the sights of the big bad guy…by which I should say both big bad guys…poor Dean, he really needs to watch his back from now on!**

 **Daisysakura, Oops, sorry not sorry for the added tension! I think you might have to prepare yourself for a bit more coming up too, because there will be lots of nice drama before the end! Not going to say how though because I know you love the suspense really…maybe a little bit?! Come on, you know you do!**

 **Time for some answers then…**

* * *

 **Helpless Criminals**

Roman turns over another page of the notebook then shakes his broad head while blowing out a breath, his big brown eyes scanning the words laid out in front of him and his heart thumping hard as he tries to process the scrawled text.

"Damn."

Dean blinks up kind of suddenly at the exhale then narrows his blue eyes from the edge of the bed, where he is perched like a parakeet and chewing on a thumb nail as he waits for confirmation,

"So what's the verdict man, s' it any good?"

Roman nods but chooses not to look upwards since his own gaze is still focused on the crinkle-paged book and in particular the blue ball point covering the pages and containing an entire assortment of important stuff.

He clears his throat,

"Uce this – this is _perfect_."

"Yeah?"

Dean rocks forward but responds with a grin that triggers an actual flourish of dimples and then lights his whole face up as he leans closer to peer in. It seems doubtful that he can make out any of the scribble since the writing is small and he's looking at it upside down, but that still doesn't stop the bright blue eyes from roving like he's searching for something,

"So – like – you can use that shit then?"

Roman blinks and then snorts in amusement but not in the regular humorous sound, since instead it is driven by utter astonishment and with good reason too.

Dean has found them pure gold.

In the margins on each page of the nearly maxed out notebook are the name and numbers of every prisoner in the place and penned in order of their arrival at the facility with their separate dates of birth carefully added underneath and accompanied by a note of the reason for their being there and the nature of their crimes and not incriminating.

 _Yet_.

Roman however is looking beyond them to the scratch marks that take up the rest of the page but have no real bearing on any facts or figures and are instead observations written solely by one hand.

Bischoff.

Roman curls his lip up thinking about him and the glower intensifies as he reads the hateful words. Every line is like an homage to his loathing of the prisoners and very few inmates have escaped the poison pen, with men being branded _trouble_ or _stupid_ and several more of them labelled ominously by the words _to be removed_.

Dean leans in closer and then reaches a hand out to pull the tiny booklet a little further down before pointing a stub-nailed finger towards some numbers which have been written in red pen by one or two select names.

"What are those?"

Roman knows already,

"The guys that need meds."

"He wrote that shit _down_?"

Dean gapes at him in what amounts to pure horror but not at the thought of illicit prescription sales, because instead his confusion is centred around the lunacy of a man breaking the law then fucking inking the details out and then leaving them somewhere where they can bring down his empire.

Like in the locked bottom drawer of his private work desk.

Roman nods,

"Drug names, amounts and prices, plus some cell phone numbers."

"His buyers?"

"Best guess."

Dean grunts shortly,

"Is this guy _ever_ a rookie."

He says it with a snort but knows it's pretty baseless even if he feels like it _should_ be the truth since Bischoff hasn't bothered to hide his tracks or tie loose ends up and yet still runs a prison that sends helpless men to their deaths.

Helpless _criminals_ that is –

Like it matters.

Dean leans in closer again and licks his lips but pauses for a second like he is perhaps unsure of asking or likely needs to do it but is braced for whatever he hears next.

"Callihan in there?"

Roman knows it's coming but the tremor to the tones still catches him off guard, because hearing Dean hurt but pretending that he isn't is like having a shank thrust right into his heart and fills him in turn with compassion and frustration that he tries to fight back,

"Yeah babe, he is."

"What does it say?"

He sits back to hear it, like seeing the words in front of him might somehow be too much and his knee begins to bounce up and down on the concrete in time to sudden frantic tapping of his hands. His fingers flutter in a tense little rhythm that he seems not to notice he is doing at all and his tense blue eyes focus entirely in on his brother in total apprehension.

Roman swallows and finds the page,

"Haldol, three micrograms three times daily, wild, outbursts cause cell damage, to be removed."

Damn.

He sucks a breath in then blows it back out again because even to _him_ the assessment is a brutal one and he had never even met the poor guy so for the copper blonde therefore who had both known and loved him it has to be a hammer blow to sit and have to hear.

Dean lowers his head,

"Sami you god damn idiot, I told your ass not to smash up the cell."

"Uce – ,"

"Is that everythin' the fucker wrote about him?"

In an instant he is back to burning fury again and in response the bigger man falters for a second because there is still a line left that he hasn't yet read and he honestly isn't sure how the copper blonde will take it or whether it's even something that he frankly _wants_ to hear.

"No, there's more but – ,"

"Read it."

"Babe – ,"

" _Roman_."

His name is spoken in both a growl and a plea, like the scruffy haired man isn't sure which one to lead with but is too lost in emotion to make a choice either way as his tapping builds up to such a furious crescendo that it might feasibly end with his fingers snapping loose.

Roman grits his teeth then recites the scribble gently,

"Best if he met with an accident in isolation."

" _Fuck_."

Dean responds like he has suddenly been gut punched with the breath flowing out of him like he's a deflating balloon and his body rocking forward then curling over on itself slightly as the fast beating finger rhythm suddenly stops and as his whole little world collapses.

Roman puts out a hand in sympathy,

"Uce."

It crosses the space between them, then cards through the tangle before stopping at the nape and holding on tight to the hair like he is trying to anchor his cellmate to real life and the fact that a person that loves him is there. Dean sucks in a wet sounding gulp in response to it and his whole body shakes like he's been caught in the snow but the breakdown only lasts for a couple of seconds before he paws his eyes crossly then coughs a harsh sentence out,

"So he did it then – like – no two fuckin' ways around it?"

"He did it babe."

Dean nods and then pulls himself up straight like the whole ragdoll slump thing isn't a good look on him and which dislodges the bigger man's hand from his nape. His face when he blinks up is red and lightly blotchy but his blue eyes are positively _burning_ with flames.

"What now, I mean, we're bringin' this asshole down right?"

Roman nods,

"Hell yeah we're bringing him down."

Dean seems to be reassured by the answer but his brain is still working on pulsating rage since he is looking at point on the whitewashed wall behind him but not seeing anything beyond the visions in his head, which quite evidently are not happy images or possibly _are_ ,

"Fuckin' thumb tacks in his eyes, nice an' slow so I can hear him screamin'."

"Easy, I'm still a detective over here."

But in spite of the sentiments and the copper blonde's plotting which has taken on a noticeably horror movie theme, the broader man still shakes his big head in fondness and gives the curly tangles a final loving sweep.

Dean looks up at the touch,

"He saw me."

"Bischoff?"

"Caught me fuckin' hangin' over his desk."

Roman nods having figured as much already since when he had returned from the stock cupboard earlier with the nervous little greenhorn guard in tow, it had been to the sight of his cellmate in the office with a strangely haunted sort of look on his face.

Roman frowns as he suddenly remembers it,

"What happened?"

"Nothin' much except him threatenin' me I guess."

"Threatening you _how_?"

Dean waves a hand loosely and then reaches across to claim back the book, which he then sets about hiding underneath his mattress in a flap where the well-used material has come apart and with such total ease that it makes the big man wonder what exactly the copper blonde has stashed away in there before.

Dean snorts,

"He wasn't happy 'bout me bein' in his office, mentioned solitary an' we know what _that_ shit means."

Roman grunts –

Damn it.

Dean being on the radar is by no means what he had wanted from the make or break scheme and it fills himself with a burst of sudden raw purpose that blisters through his bones.

"We'll get his ass first."

He means it too, with every fibre of his being and makes him tense his fists up as he sets his squared jaw and makes a promise to himself and to his teammate not to mention all the victims.

Eric Bischoff has had his day.

* * *

 **Next chapter, we bump into our enemy...but which one is it?**


	26. Fucker Number One

**Okay folks, time for one of our enemies to pop up, so place your bets on who we've got because from here on out it's going to be drama all the way!**

 **Guest, Thank you so much, glad it's still got you and especially as we creep towards the end now (but lots of crazy still to come before that!)**

 **Mandy, I love writing about Dean doing good, especially since I figure he's the sort of person that has probably never been given too much praise before, so getting it from Roman is even more special to him, plus he gets to help avenge Sami. Go Deano!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Aww, many thanks, these next few chapters are going to be dramatic because I've got lots of different threads to tie up, starting with this one and some unfinished business…**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yep, time is now of the essence, but Roman has it in hand in this chapter…even though they have another problem too as it turns out (you'll see what!) But yeah, the boys are right in the thick of it now and are going to have to watch their backs. Drama coming!**

 **Minnie1015, Only now we're getting to the good parts?! (Kidding, totally kidding!) But yep, here cometh the drama, starting with this chapter and then turning up to eleven beyond, because there's nothing like a mad scramble to the ending. Ahead be cliffhangers (said in pirate voice).**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Hmmm, maybe…I mean, when is that big swamp idiot never not wandering about, waiting to be a pain in the ass for them? Or maybe its Bischoff...hmmm, so many bad guys not enough time!**

 **Cheryl24, Yep, the smoking gun is in possession. The good news however is that Roman is all over it in this chapter…the bad news is that they now officially have more enemies than friends, so the next few chapters are gonna be interesting (well, at least I hope they are!)**

 **Skovko, Haha, I can see Roman sitting with his eyes shut and his fingers in his ears giving Dean five minutes alone with Bischoff. But on the plus side, Dean gets the chance to have a little retribution on someone in this chapter…or does he? Hmmm, not telling!**

 **Martha, Aww, thank you, I'm really happy you're enjoying the story. Always makes me smile when I know that people are reading along and itching to find out what happens next. Makes all the blood, sweat and tears of writing these things worthwhile! Hope you like this chapter too!**

 **Daisysakura, Um, okay, so apologies in advance here but the suspense is going to kind of go into overdrive coming up in the next few chapters, so I'm going to need you to do some meditation before and after each reading, okay? BUT on the plus side, you know, protective Roman!**

 **I love the chapter title for this one btw…**

* * *

 **Fucker Number One**

Dean leans back against the wall and blows a smoke ring, or pretends to at least since he doesn't have a butt and nor _has_ he had once since his second week in prison when he realized that his credits wouldn't stretch to food _and_ smokes.

Fuck, he misses them.

Nicotine was comforting and he even liked the smell of the smoke stains on his skin in the same way a regular _not_ messed up person might like the scent of a perfume their mom used to wear, or the aroma of cookies crisping up in the oven.

Dean isn't normal though –

It's cancer sticks for him.

He is stood in front of the door to the phone room and trying to look cool but at the same time stand guard, since his undercover cellmate is inside with a receiver, making what is likely the most pivotal call of his life.

Except not his life, more like the mission –

But it is still fucking important and that fact can't be changed, which is why the copper blonde has been given the duty of somehow trying to keep the prison populace away which would frankly be hard if he were shepherding cattle but with murderers and kingpins is suicidal at best.

Bright orange threads lumber up from his right side,

"Uh hey man, where y' going?"

Dean is there in a flash, inserting himself between the inmate and the phone room and shouldering the man's hand clean out of the way.

Piercing blue eyes frown down at him crossly,

"I'm going to make a call."

"You can't."

"Why not?"

In the grand scheme of things it is a very good question and one that he hasn't managed to think of an answer for, which is probably why the sentence that falls out of him surprises them both.

"Infestation."

"Huh?"

Dean jerks a clumsy thumb over his shoulder like the gesture is proof he knows what he's talking about and then blows a breath out like it wouldn't be the first time before patting the man's shoulder,

"There are _a lot_ of bugs in there, but I'm with cleanin', so we're gonna fix it."

He receives a baffled blink,

"An' then I can make my call?"

"Sure thing buddy."

Dean grins like an idiot and then carefully steers the far bigger man off and thankfully manages to avoid taking a beating by the fact the bulky lug is so totally confused.

 _Jesus_.

Dean huffs out a breath and sinks back again, resisting the urge to stomp through the door to see what in the hell is taking so long and then being thankful that the cell block is largely empty since the rest of prison is having lunch in the chow hall.

More steps trudge towards him and he grumbles,

"Fuckin' roaches man, m' tellin' you, they're _like_ freakin' everywhere."

He turns towards the newcomer with a grin of apology but finds pretty quickly that the beam slides right off since standing in front of him are not more baffled prisoners, but three very bearded and unflinching men.

Bray and his minions.

Fucking great.

He glowers at all three of them,

"What the hell do you want?"

"Now, now is that anyway to talk to a friend?"

Dean lets loose a bark of derisive laughter and then tries not to rein back and punch the ugly head because the swamp man simply has one of those faces that makes his fingers twitch and which the asshole seems to know.

Bray taps his wrist in the spot where a watch would be,

"You're late."

"For fuckin' what?"

"Have you forgotten our rumble?"

"Our – ,"

Realization hits him bodily.

 _Shit_.

Bray grins broadly in response to the reaction and the obvious curse word hung on the lips and then holds out his hands and tips his head back proudly like he has already won it.

"I knew you'd chicken out boy, you're no match for these hands."

Dean bristles on instinct,

"You think m' fuckin' _scared_?"

He laughs to make the point but the bayou man keeps on grinning right back at him and then tilts his head in that weird ass _dog_ way he has that is so sort of violent it risks snapping his neck off and is too god damn totally creepy for words.

"Well if you're not scared how about we do this right now?"

Dean falters –

 _Crap_.

Roman is still on the phone and totally unaware of the storm that is brewing a mere fifteen feet away from his nose and which is frankly a fucking curveball that seems unimportant given that the warden is murdering men.

Petty grudges and weird ass hillbillies can wait their damn turn.

Dean shrugs,

"Rain check, don't wanna get _hillbilly_ caught up under my nails."

Evidently that is the wrong thing to say to a person who spends his hours talking with the spirits or brushing bird feathers and human teeth out of his beard and who therefore doesn't take insults or accusations all that kindly as he then makes a sudden attempt to have known. Bray puffs his barrel chest out and then struts forwards until Dean is being pinned by the blubber against the wall and feeling every inch of the gut through his thin shirt front and hating it with a passion.

He tries to shunt back,

"Fuck you man."

Bray grins wickedly an inch from his features and then chuckles until the copper blonde can feel the tainted breath and it makes him push back and struggle even harder as images and memories of being trapped in the kitchens and then fucking _stroked_ come flooding to the front.

He isn't letting that happen again ever.

Bray laughs louder,

"I'm your reckoning boy, I ain't scared of nothin'."

"Except for soap and water an' a mouthful of listerine I'm gonna guess."

Behind them the two forms of the gigantic lackeys move in a little closer and block out the light and Dean figures the movement also hinders the monitors that watch over the prison floor to prevent flare ups and fights. Not that technology is needed in their case, since their three-on-one pretty much _promises_ a brawl and yet the space around them remains open and empty.

Not one single fucking moron guard is in sight.

Dean grits his teeth –

It has _not_ been a good week and he is fast losing hold of any patience he has left since he has already had to endure one swamp based beatdown, not to mention undercover work and then almost being caught and which hadn't even mentioned the realization that their warden was an asshole who had killed his helpless friend.

His fingers twitch like a current is passing through them,

"M' givin' you fair warnin' here man, step back."

Dean figures that he says the words pretty politely given that he wants to gouge the eyeballs from the man, but instead of doing the sensible thing and moving off him, the trouble seeking hillbilly bellows in his face,

"Not until you have learnt who your master is."

Dean reacts before he even knows that he has, lifting his fist and throwing it into the brow line between the wild hair encased, unblinking white eyes and feeling something sort of snap as he does it that he hopes is the swamp man's skull but is actually his own mind.

" _Oof_ – ,"

Bray stumbles back towards his towering minions who catch him in a less than graceful tangle of limbs and then struggle to put him back up onto his feet again since he is thrashing against them like they have just reeled him in.

Dean grins –

 _Fucker_.

He feels pretty elated and so is primed for further action when the enemy stomps back in with one big hillbilly forearm swinging rapidly in a move thrown to take off his copper blonde head, but which whistles over the top as he bobs down below it before responding with an uppercut right to the big chest. Bray throws his fist out again on instinct but is reddening from having taken two successive hits and it leaves him open to making an error, which he does two seconds later after another useless swing.

"Boy, I'm gonna beat your damn ass senseless."

Bray bellows the intent as he launches his body in, but then fails to block the open space around him, which allows the fast-paced, leaner man to duck once again, skipping around the flailing cult leader and then throwing himself onto his back from behind and wrapping his own arm tight around the windpipe as he latches himself on in a full spider monkey style.

Bray grunts hard in response and then panics as he suddenly realizes his breath is being cut and he throws his hands up and starts scrabbling at his nemesis with hot and clammy but thickly battering hands.

 _Thwack, thwack, thwack_.

Dean tucks his head in closer and weathers the storm of rained down blows, but then doesn't have the hands or the means to defend further as from the corner of his vision he sees Harper and Rowan blunder in, clearly looking to prize him from their master in a way he knows he won't be able to fight off. Bray is gasping and bucking underneath him and so he cinches himself tighter.

He cannot let go.

Harper puts a large meaty paw out towards him and it arcs towards his hair in what will be a painful hold but then never gets further than a fingertip away from him since someone else suddenly bursts into the fold and pushes the big man back with a body check that startles them all.

"Don't you put a hand on him."

Dean grins and lets out a loopy little chuckle.

Roman –

Impeccably timed like he always is and standing tall like an actual granite monument and a physical barrier between the freaks and his friend.

He looks back briefly,

"Uce?"

Dean pants a breath out and then tightens his committed to and locked in choke hold, which means that he can only offer scant reassurance through tightly gritted teeth.

"M' okay, m' not hurt."

Roman turns back to the hovering lackeys and then glowers across the distance with feeling,

"Good."

Bray is wheezing and turning puce underneath him, which the copper blonde can see by the color of his head and then from the way the bastard drops onto his kneecaps in a subsidence that brings Dean back down onto his feet.

"Pl- _please_ – ,"

Dean keeps his hold a little longer until his hillbilly enemy is pretty much at a slump and then finally lets go and backs up with a rumble that growls from his lips like an angry junkyard dog,

"From now on, you keep your creepy ass the hell away from me."

Bray coughs out a breathe and then struggles to get up, making it as far as his hands and wobbly kneecaps before stumbling a little and then sprawling again, his throat sort of gurgling with unpleasant little spasms that are beautiful to hear.

Dean thinks so anyway.

Roman points up at the two hovering minions who are staring wide eyed with the wind gone from their sails and who are itching to close the distance to their mentor who is flopping on the ground like some gigantic beached whale.

"Same goes for you assholes too, you hear that?"

Neither of them bother or make the effort to respond but based on their solemn and shell shocked looking faces the message has been delivered and received loud and clear.

Dean grunts,

"An' no more blood an' shit on the walls either."

His missive is interrupted by the squeaking of footsteps and the whoosh of heavy fire doors being pulled open as a guard steps back out onto the empty cell wing floor and then casts around in a sweep of the area that will only take seconds before it tracks around to them.

Roman grabs his cellmate's arm,

"Come on babe."

Bray is still slithering around on the floor but manages to manoeuvre into a wheezing sit position as his two taller brethren hurriedly slip in, the three of them fixing the fast retreating figure with deep looks of hatred but also with defeat and the copper blonde can't help but grin in response to it.

Fucker number one down –

Fucker two still to beat.

* * *

 **I thought it was about time I gave Dean a victory and besides, since when has he ever backed down from a fight?**

 **Next chapter...well...next chapter things happen, which is all I'm going to say right now!**


	27. The Prison Blues

**Not going to say too much about this chapter, so let's just get straight into it shall we?**

 **Cheryl24, Bray has been significantly cowed for the time being, even though he is probably licking his wounds and trying to come up with Plan B somewhere. But right now we are moving onto bigger and badder villains (or at least bigger and badder in this story anyway!)**

 **Mandy, Oh no, I'm sorry, harsh feedback on something you put your time into is the worst. But then maybe the problem is with the person who gave the feedback, they might be in a bad place too. Either way, keep your chin up babe (I'm channelling my inner Roman) Hope this chapter makes you smile (well, parts of it at least).**

 **Guest, Aww, thank you and thanks for reading.**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Many thanks, got plenty of drama from here on out (I know, I know, I've been promising it for a while, but now we're all systems go!**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Hmmm, well, wait until the end of this chapter and then tell me whether you think it counts as dramatic or not (I'm being super coy about not giving anything away here…or trying to be anyway!) But yeah, Bray is done *happy dance* Bischoff is not *sad dance instead***

 **Minnie1015, Haha, well, you know me, stringing that suspense out for as long as I possibly can! But the tipping point has to come sometime soon. Will it be this chapter? Next chapter? Who know?! (Okay, so I know obviously but that's not the point!)**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Well, maybe I'll give the boys time to revel in their victory a tiny bit…but only a really, really tiny bit because we've got villains to see and things to do here! But yep, thought Dean deserved to get himself a little retribution from ol' swamp whiskers (you're welcome Dean!)**

 **Stingerette1975, Awww, poor Harper and Rowan having all these collective terms (tree trunks being one of the best obviously!) But then again, if they will hang out with Bray…*shrugs*. Ohhhh yes, plenty of trouble coming in this one, maybe too much!**

 **Skovko, Having Roman there and having the purpose of getting Bischoff has really lit a fire under Deano in this story. Besides, he has bigger things to worry about than swamp brethren now so he figured, what the hell and then went in for the kill. I mean, people in there called him lunatic for a reason!**

 **Martha, Agreed, big burly alpha male Roman feeling comfortable enough to call Dean (only Dean though, have you noticed that?) babe is legit one of the best things ever, so naturally it pops up in ALL of my Roman/Dean stories. Sorry school is so exhausting, but hopefully this chapter can help!**

 **Daisysakura, Aww, I'm so glad you got that from this story, that Dean feels empowered by having Roman there and by having a purpose (namely: get Bischoff). Things are going to get a little tight for the boys coming up, but I know you love them worrying about each other, so…**

 **Jjramz, Hey there, thank you so much! I love when new people jump aboard my stories. Never too late to join this crazy ride and the good news (or bad news depending on how you feel after this chapter) is that you've joined us just in time for the drama!**

 **Without further ado…**

* * *

 **The Prison Blues**

Roman spends the remainder of the walk back to their cell room crowing like a parent whose son has made the team and chuckling in between blowing relieved breaths out as he falls back on the best word in his retinue,

"Damn."

Dean grins in response,

"Pretty fuckin' cool, right?"

Roman puts out a typically tousling hand, which cards through the copper blonde scruff with pure fondness and then slips down to knead proudly at the tense shoulder joint. He lets loose a chuckle,

"You had him on the ropes babe."

Dean nods,

"Uh huh, I mean he swung his fist at me an' I – like – _totally_ ducked it an' just locked in a hold."

He goes through the move set with his arms as he replays it, throwing a karate kick into the mix, that Roman is ninety nine percent sure never happened but which makes him smile anyway because Dean thinks it did. He then mimes the choke hold.

"Like this see? Real tight man – can't let him get out of it."

Roman turns the corner towards the mezzanine stairs and then fights back the urge to straight up laugh at him, managing instead to tail it back into a throat clear which may or may not contain a little chuckle thrown in as well.

"Uh huh."

Beneath their feet which move in time with one another, the metal staircase clonks with a tinny tonal sound, that could almost be the backbeat of a melodious rhythm or the soundtrack to the plain walls that wail out the prison blues. Dean tips his newly sobered gaze around suddenly and then lowers his voice about as far as he can, that renders it little more than a rough sort of grumble since he is usually low-timbred anyway.

"So? What'd he say?"

Roman doesn't need ask who the whispered _he_ is, since the person in question can really only be his boss and the man the copper blonde was guarding the phone room door for and had been doing pretty well until the swamp men had come along.

Roman nods,

"He thinks we might have something, but he needs to get the district attorney on board first."

"But he's comin' – like – with the whole fuckin' cavalry an' everythin'?"

"Two days max."

Dean blinks a little.

"Wow."

He seems completely thrown off by the announcement, like he cannot believe the incoming police bust is thanks at least in part to something he has done, or maybe like he isn't sure what will happen after, which he then makes very clear is exactly what it is. He sighs and shrugs his shoulders,

"So then this'll be over?"

Roman moves a hand between them,

" _This_ won't uce, but the case will be – or the investigation part anyway."

Dean replies by nodding his head but his body has tensed and his shoulders have risen up and he tries to hunker into his shell like a turtle at the thought of his cellmate leaving and the looming prospect of that loss. Roman returns his grip,

"Hey, I'll come visit every week babe and I'll put a good word in with the parole board for your ass."

"Uce – ,"

"Figure you should get at least a couple months knocked off for aiding the investigation."

Dean snorts,

"How 'bout a medal?"

"Don't push your luck."

By the time they hit the top of the metal staircase and turn the last corner in the direction of their cell, both men are beaming and chuckling loosely at the back and forth teasing that has become a hallmark of who they are and which has grown to underpin their brotherly friendship since neither of them really do _heartfelt_ very well. It is also what spurs the bigger man to employ a sudden head lock that he snaps on without warning right out of the blue and which the copper blonde chuckles at but then tries to bat off again with mild but flailing arms,

"Get off me you goof."

Roman is still laughing as they tussle across the threshold but he stops himself dead as his eyes travel up and then land on the figure stood in between their two bed frames and glowering at them.

Eric Bischoff.

"What in the hell?"

He lets go of his cellmate in a hasty untangling and the scruffy head pops up and then lets out a baffled _huh_ which is probably as coherent as can really be expected since the warden of the prison is holding court in their room. More than that though. He has clearly been searching it since their meagre belongings are in total disarray, with their pile of books tossed and trampled on the concrete, their lockers wide open and sheets torn from the beds. Even the mattresses have been pulled from the framework and sit at odd looking angles and –

Dean's mattress.

 _Holy shit_.

Roman blinks in a measure of panic and times it to perfection with the notebook being held aloft, as Bischoff extracts it from the pocket of his jacket and then glares across the space.

"Look what I found."

His cold gaze is fixed on the copper blonde entirely and in response to it the bigger man feels his cellmate haul in a breath and then pull his frame up to its full, lean potential which outstrips the glaring prison boss by several inches at least. Behind them several frowning guards materialize in the doorway but Dean either misses that or else straight up doesn't care since his blue eye are centred on his latest brutal nemesis and the man who is potentially the biggest villain of them all.

He smirks back unflinchingly,

"Oh yeah, the notebook, found it on the floor, been meanin' to give it back."

"So that's why it's under your bed?"

"Can't be too careful man, lotta people in here who kinda like to steal shit."

Dean snorts wryly and it is borderline impressive that even when the brown stuff is hitting the fan totally that his breezy façade isn't altered one bit and actually seems to _grow_ in its brashness, which Roman figures must be something his cellmate learnt from the streets.

Bischoff tenses his jaw and then nearly shatters it,

"You came in _my_ office and you broke into _my_ desk – ,"

Dean grins,

"Careful man, I hope you got proof for that."

Bischoff waves the notebook like a baton above his head and then turns several shades of utterly livid at the continued display and the lack of respect.

"You son of a bitch."

He storms in towards them looking suspiciously like he might be building to a strike and which, thanks to the body of guards stood behind them, they cannot hold back if he chooses to lash out. Dean braces stiffly and the thought of his taking it and _him_ having to watch is more than Roman can bear, which is why he suddenly puts a hand between them and yells across the space,

"It was my idea."

"What?"

He isn't too sure if the baffled sounding answer comes from the stalled prison warden or his aghast looking friend, who is throwing him daggers that scream _shut up man_ but which he roundly and protectively chooses to ignore.

"I was the one who sent him in there."

Roman knows he's blowing the case, but at the same time he can't stand back and say basically nothing if Dean is going to be landed with all the blame and possibly even get a beating because of it. He still has the god damn welt on his forehead from where Wyatt had thrown him into the brickwork and the policeman won't let him take any more knocks on top of that, not for him and not _from_ anyone.

Bischoff scoffs at him,

"Your idea huh?"

"Yep, sure was, because I'm a cop."

Dean gapes across the space and then shakes his head minutely like he's made the wrong decision but which gets lost in the warden's bark.

"Excuse me?"

Roman opens his mouth to make it clearer and to end the whole thing once and for all, but is beaten to the punch by his copper blonde cellmate who snorts out loudly and then waves a hand around,

"An' you wonder why I took the fuckin' notebook? M' tired of bein' locked up with crazy men."

"Uce – ,"

Dean points back at him in exaggerated fury,

"I mean, listen to this. You know what _uce_ means? He thinks we're fuckin' _brothers_ or some shit."

Bischoff lifts a brow,

"So you were going to blackmail me?"

"Thought I could maybe get a single room out of it – like – can't blame a guy for tryin' am I right?"

For a second there is nothing in the cell but eerie silence and had they owned a pin to drop, its landing would have seemed loud. Nobody moves but then the warden hums a little, like he is thinking things through. He finishes with a grin,

"Well then Ambrose, I've got good news for you, looks like a single opened up after all."

Roman shivers because the look that flashes with it is twisted and bitter and hugely unkind and is timed with a wave towards the guards in the doorway which releases them abruptly from their frozen statue stop. Five of them swarm into the room like piranhas and position themselves two behind each of the men, with the final one hovering in close behind the lawman, since they clearly think he might need an extra restricting hand. Dean has been throwing daggers across the room at the warden and so when hands seize up his biceps he reacts with alarm,

"Hey – ,"

Bischoff leans in closer until he is almost brushing nose tips and then bellows in his face,

"Take him to solitary."

 _No_.

Roman struggles and then tries to surge forward but the three on one guard hold means he cannot break loose and so is forced to watch as his cellmate is hauled backwards with a look of genuine terror on his face.

Roman bellows,

"It was me, I'm telling you – ,"

But the shouting doesn't stop his brother being dragged off, with his fists clenched fiercely in insubordination and his lips sealed so tightly they are beginning to turn white. Bischoff stops and turns briefly in the doorway as he watches the bigger man fighting the hold, before sneering at the prison guards in a flash of pure anger,

"Keep this one on lockdown until he cools off."

Then he's gone.

* * *

 **Aww, plus Dean trying to take all the blame on this one. But hey, I told you things would happen, huh? Yep. It just got real folks, because we all know what goes on down in solitary...see you three days! *Walks off whistling with hands behind back***


	28. Damn Crafty Bastard

**Welcome back from the Cliffhanger of Doom! So let's get right back into this baby shall we?**

 **Hayley1001, I promised you angst and you are getting angst…this is just the tip of the iceberg in this story. Plenty more where that came from. Got some Big Dog worrying like crazy in this chapter too, because is there anything better than a worrying Roman?!**

 **Daisysakura, Yep, Dean has blossomed into a beautiful loyal and slightly crazy butterfly in this story and he is willing to go to any lengths to protect his bro. Pretty sure there aren't many people in life he would go to bat for, but Roman is one of them (okay…the only one!)**

 **Cheryl24, Aw, come on now, I bet those three days passed before you even knew it and look, here we are again ready to rock and roll with this crazy…of course, then it will be** _ **another**_ **three days…but hey, the suspense is part of the fun, right?!**

 **Martha, Haha, oops! Go to bed! If it's any help though, I'm pretty much like clockwork, so all my updates are in a certain time (who says OCD doesn't have its positives?!) Aww, glad you love the Ambreigns bromance like I do (sometimes with some Seth thrown in because he does worried pretty well too!) I promise to keep the 'babe' content coming!**

 **Guest, Thank you so much, hope you enjoy this one!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Muchas gracias (I'm not Spanish, but it's nice to switch it up every once in a while!)**

 **Rebel8954, Me? *Adopts innocent face and point to self* Evil? Haha, I think Roman would be more likely to spear Bischoff through the chow hall wall, but as for what happens to our big bad in the end, same drill as always, you'll have to keep reading to find out (now THAT is evil!)**

 **Mandy, My mum is doing really well thank you and I'm super proud of her for that. She'll be going back to work in the next month (slowly and gradually but all good!) Glad these updates are helping you as well, not that Roman or Dean are enjoying the process much (sorry boys!)**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Ooh, glad I caught you slightly unawares with that. Guess I was kind of mean to Dean too, letting him getting all proud and pumped up from beating Wyatt and BAM…solitary time! Let's just say the next few chapter will be tense for everyone involved!**

 **Stingerette1975, 'Not good' is pretty much my speciality in these stories! Situation; Not Good should maybe have been my pen name?! But yep, Roman is going to have to think of something fast to get to his boy. Luckily though, he's Roman, so…**

 **Minnie1015, Um…okay, about the cliffhanger thing…I kinda have some bad news for you regarding the next chapter or two, especially the next one. But I mean, can't have drama without suspense and you can't have one of my stories without cliffhangers!**

 **June3law, Well, things will obviously have to get worse for our boys before they get better…I mean, if they do get better (I never miss a moment to build suspense!) Glad you're enjoying it, I'm building towards the end now, but still plenty of action left to come!**

 **Skovko, I feel like the last two chapters were really Dean proving himself. First beating Wyatt and then putting himself on the line to save Roman and the mission. He is truly a man now *wipes away tear of pride* But yeah, totally in the shit nonetheless, so it's swings and roundabouts!**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Come on, everybody loves a bit of drama (except Dean in this case!) I have to up the ante before we get to our big dramatic final. Plus, what better way to give you a chapter of panicking Roman? Which is basically what this one is!**

 **Not-that-kinda-gurl, hey there, welcome aboard! The good news is that you are just in time for the party...or, well, not so much the party for our poor boys! Glad you like some of my other stories too (I can't stop writing Dean) and I hope you're feeling better.**

 **Here we go...**

* * *

 **Damn Crafty Bastard**

Roman spends the next hour and seventeen minutes on the fringes of having an anxiety attack and battling back the urge to hulk out completely and blow the damn doors off to go and rescue his uce.

Dean.

"Damn it babe."

He is furious at his brother for having so willingly placed himself in harm's way and for having taken the entirety of the blame onto his shoulders –

But mostly he is god damn livid with _himself_.

He's the one who got them into the situation by pushing it too far and bringing his helpless roommate in, when he could have sat back and let his case mature more slowly instead of working hot and getting in over his head.

Both of their heads.

Because while his big ass is in there pacing and wearing a groove in the concrete floor, his copper blonde headed partner is all on his own and in a place where not only several men have been murdered, but potentially in the same cell where his old pal Sami had met his end.

" _Damn it_."

He thumps fisted hands against the locker and even manages to loosen the thing which works to relieve his building tension for a second but doesn't last beyond that because he's going insane. Dean and the things that could be happening to him fill up and crowd every recess of his mind and so does the look his best friend was wearing when he was dragged from the room.

He looked truly scared.

Roman needs a plan and he needs to make one quickly because when they let him out he won't have much time to spare, or at least not if he wants to haul ass and save his brother which he knows he can and _will_ do –

Not a single question there.

In real terms of course and speaking theoretically, he should nudge the side of caution and simply keep to the plan and pass the next twenty four to forty eight hours with his head down waiting for his boss to show up. Except for the fact that no way can he do that when there is every chance that Dean has a noose around his neck and is waiting for him to bust in at the last second and save him from a hanging.

His stomach flips over and he groans.

 _Nope_.

"I'm coming babe."

By the time a guard lumbers back jangling his key chain an agonizing additional _thirteen_ minutes have slipped past. Every one of which has been a knife to his system but on the plus side has given him the chance to make a plan.

Not a very good one –

In actual fact it's terrible but if it gets him into solitary then he figures it's good enough, except before he does that he needs to pass across a message and so therefore _doesn't_ freak out and start beating on the guard.

"You gonna behave?"

It is asked through the door hatch and he responds with a nod and raised hands,

"I'm calm."

By which he means he's on the border of murderous but since he doesn't _say_ that the door is buzzed back and he steps out onto the mezzanine like a rocket beneath the wary and watchful eyes of the wiry prison guard.

"Hey."

Roman ignores the shout from behind him and instead takes the hard met steps at a run, which has the worrying potential to deposit him earthwards in a tangle of limbs and more than likely a broken hip, but which he manages to descend without breaking his body before stalking across the cell floor,

"Where is he, where is – ,"

He stops in recognition as a floppy haired figure begins to limp and lumber by and then feels his blood flow warm in sheer gratitude because maybe the universe is smiling down on him for once.

He picks up a gear,

"Hey Mick?"

His broad shout carries and makes the older man grind to a halt as the chirpy expression spins in towards him and then breaks out into a grin,

"Roman, hey man, what can I do for ya?"

"I need you to make a call."

He skips past the pleasantries and simply starts by throwing his command into the sky before watching is float back to earth again slowly and a little like a tiny wisp of cloud.

"You – what?"

Foley blinks in confusion that is mildly frustrating but by no means misplaced, since he hasn't exactly provided any context but which is largely because there's no time to god damn waste.

He draws in closer and drops his voice a little,

"I need you to get yourself into that phone room and put a call through to the third precinct, okay?"

"Uh, okay, can I ask why?"

He asks the question slowly in the way a psychiatrist might talk to a patient who has barricaded themselves onto a windowsill somewhere and is simply staring down at the traffic far below them while they contemplate jumping.

Roman brushes it off,

"You need to speak to the captain – only the captain – tell him to get his ass down here _fast_."

"Why?"

Roman once again skirts the bigger picture but his answer still speaks volumes,

"Dean's in trouble."

"Shit."

It is touching how much the older man looks genuinely worried and is a bittersweet reminder that Dean has other friends and also a personality that chips at hard built defences until he is fully and totally rooted underneath the skin.

He grunts back,

"Yeah, but I'm gonna get him out of it which is why I need your help."

"Anything man, you want this phone call, I'll make the phone call."

Foley holds his hands up in a sign of compliance and then nods his head so eagerly that it upsets his blustery hair and sends it flapping up and down against his forehead like it has its own life force or perhaps a gravitational pull.

Roman winces,

"Actually, there is _one_ other thing."

"Name it."

"I need to punch you a little bit."

"What?"

Mick responds like he's already thrown one and pulls his head back with an astonished looking jerk but he isn't actually offended by the notion so much as surprised,

"Is this to help Dean too? Or did I really piss you off when we were on cleaning?"

Roman manages a fond sort of smile and then snorts a little,

"No, it's for uce man."

"Well then, in that case – ,"

Foley turns his head towards him and then proffers up a cheek which he indicates with an instructive point of his finger, seemingly pumped up by the thought of being punched in a way that most other men tend to avoid instinctively but for the bulky man is obviously not a problem at all.

Roman lifts a brow,

"You sure?"

"Uh huh, lay it on me."

"I won't be too hard now, you still gotta make that call."

Mick lifts his thumb and forefinger into a circle and then winks at him roguishly,

"Right you are boss."

Roman sucks a breath in and then blows it out slowly as he pulls back his arm and closes his fingers into a fist, before pausing the motion and glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone is watching –

Four guards are staring back.

He breathes in again then holds onto the lungful which he knows he is probably going to need, then follows up by wincing a final time in apology before throwing his fist forwards.

 _Here goes nothing_.

Even though he has angled the punch to be a glancing one, it still catches the older man harder than he has planned and sends the floppy head of hair snapping backwards beneath the weight of its landing and it loosens up a gasp.

"Ooh – ,"

Foley stumbles back with his hands held up defensively but then his legs go wobbly and he crumples to the floor, hitting the wall and sliding right down it before he slumps onto the ground in a bewildered looking heap.

Shit.

Roman blinks in horrified astonishment because the last thing he needs is to have knocked his big friend out and so is therefore stepping in instinctively to check up on him when feet thunder behind him and hands seize up his wrists.

"Break it up, that's enough – that's enough."

He is pulled backwards and someone also employs a bear hug around his ribs, which pin his arms to his sides and leaves him motionless and which he doesn't fight out of since he is still gazing down, berating himself for being such an idiot and putting _another_ of his friends in harms' way but which lasts for only a second or two but no longer before the man on the ground throws him up a tiny wink.

Roman gapes –

Damn crafty bastard.

Foley isn't wounded by the hammer blow at all and has instead pulled out an academy award performance that has totally fooled them all, including him.

He grins back,

 _Well played man_.

More hands drag him backwards and with such rough force that he almost trips and falls, since the prison guards are obviously taking no chances and are working on the belief that he is likely to blow up more.

"That's it – you've just earned yourself some cool down in solitary."

Roman takes a leaf out of his bigger colleague's playbook and pretends to react with aggression to the sentence, but internally has to fight down a bubble of pure elation because his crazy ass plan has been perfectly laid out and he is one step closer to rescuing his brother.

He only hopes he's not too late.

 _I'm coming for you babe_.

* * *

 **Good old Mick coming through with his craziness!**

 **Next chapter we're back to Dean...**


	29. The Golden Boy Of Prisons

**Back to Dean for this one then and what has our boy been going through in the hours since they took him away? Time to find out… (I'm a little bit early today by the way so enjoy!)**

 **Guest, Hmmm, well, I can never promise a happy ending, because I want to keep that suspense up for as long as I can, but I can promise that things are going to get a lot worse before they get better. Does that help?!**

 **Stingerette1975, Mick rocks, I'm so glad I snuck him into this story. Don't worry, Mick will be back before the end and we're going to find out some more about him as well. I totally have his back in this one! Yep, Roman would have done whatever it takes to get in solitary and he still will do whatever it takes to get to Dean.**

 **Cheryl24, If I keep posting every three days (like I have been) then there's about another week and a half of this story left to go, so we are definitely in the final phases of this one. I think this is the second or third longest story I've ever written? *Goes off to check***

 **Wolfgirl2013, Yay, glad you're still on board and especially as we get to the craziness of the end. Plenty of action to come and then the obligatory rounding up chapters. But who makes it through to the end in one piece? Hmm…**

 **Minnie1015, I'm not sure even Roman's superman punch is that strong. Nah, what am I talking about. It's Roman so of course it is. Hmm, maybe that should be my next story? Roman as a superhero (with Dean as the plucky reporter/best friend who follows him around…I'm kidding by the way…but only just!)**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Haha, I never realized what a position of power I had put Mick in! Probably not my smartest idea. But hey, Mick's a good guy with only a hint of catastrophic brain trauma so maybe he'll remember to make the call, but then maybe won't, who knows? * shrugs then walks off coolly whistling***

 **Mandy, More action and drama in this one too, and the next one because you have to go out on a bang right?! Thank you, I'm actually very proud of my mum for recovering so well and adapting. Plus, the powers of modern medicine can be amazing. Take that cancer! Hope you've been feeling better recently too *hugs***

 **Martha, More 'babe' content to come too. I would honestly love to be a (non-creepy if possible) fly on the wall in their real life friendship. It seems like Roman is super happy to have Dean back, so I like to think there are lots of real life babes going on right now too!**

 **Skovko, Yep, Mick is just stitching a big 'S' onto a bedsheet now to make a cape…but wait…Mick stop stitching and go and make that phone call! *Sigh* Poor guy, I think he's hit his head on one too many lamp posts! Still love him though!**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, I have always been a sucker for a good bromance. I love watching the eternally mysterious close male friendship in action and there is NONE better than Roman/Dean. Big burly Roman using 'babe' so freely is part of the magic, hence me using it A LOT!**

 **Daisysakura, I've always loved Mick. He literally looks like the last guy you would expect to be a wrestler or like some demented spaniel but it sure worked out for him! So glad I put him in this fic. Besides, Roman and Dean sure need all the help they can get!**

 **Here's Deano…**

* * *

 **The Golden Boy Of Prisons**

Dean looks up as the heavy locks buzz open and then struggles to right himself from his slumped position on the bed, which is pretty much how he has been forced into sitting since his hands have been restrained _for his own safety_ behind his back.

Bullshit.

He has seen inmates getting trussed up before and they are usually swearing and kicking up a storm. He on the other hand had barely even struggled and yet there he is with his arms fully twisted and fixed in place with cold metal cuffs.

He's defenceless.

He knows that's the reason they have done it and to say it makes him feel just a little bit jittery is a pretty big understatement of the bleak looking facts. Because the only fucking reason he would need to be pinioned is if they are planning on doing some unpleasant messed up shit.

His stomach flips over but he chooses not to show it since he juts his chin out as a figure steps in, who he twists himself away from before getting a good look at to waggle his tied wrists,

"Gonna let me outta these now?"

Bischoff is the man who answers the question which is genuinely surprising since the copper blonde had figured that his general visitation list would comprise only the guards and so he therefore pivots back with a blink of bewilderment which he cannot quite conjure up the wherewithal to hide.

Brown eyes narrow over the distance at him smugly,

"That depends?"

"On what?"

"Have you learnt your lesson yet?"

Dean glowers back, not sure of his answer because he isn't too sure the lessons to be learnt here are his, considering that the man who is standing in front of him is a bonefide murderer with the fucking brass to lecture _him_.

"Don't steal things from assholes, got it."

Bischoff responds with an actual grin and then snorts a little and looks briefly away from him like he is trying to find the patience not to break, or else is fighting down a hint of genuine amusement that he thinks would look contrary.

"Like to run your mouth don't you son?"

He spits the word out with the patronizing timbre of somebody who is telling off their kid but with an extra type of calm that wouldn't be half so chilling were the copper blonde not tied up and trapped.

 _Fucking shit_.

Dean shuffles closer to the edge of the mattress in response to the uncomfortably even sounding tones, hoping if he needs to he can launch himself upright and headbutt the guy or run for his life.

Not that he would get very far with his hands tied.

In the meantime however he shrugs at the question and replies with laugh that bubbles from his throat and bleeds into the room as a goofy sounding chuckle that hides the wild alarm bells that are ringing in his head.

"I mean, everybody needs a hobby am I right man?"

Bischoff smiles thinly,

"Not everybody, no."

Dean lifts his gaze up and then matches the expression that is burning across the room at him like a poison tipped dart, because there is no way he is going to let the fucker win their ass stare down regardless of how badly that might turn out for him and ignoring the fact it is by far his very worst plan since shouldering the whole fucking _notebook theft_ blame.

He is not going to give an inch to the man stood in front of him –

Healthy death glaring is just part of the game.

Besides he only really needs to hold out just long enough for the police to swoop in and haul the beaming bastard away and which will take no longer than forty eight hours so is therefore not a totally impossible task.

Better him in there than his cellmate anyway.

 _Roman_.

He fucking pins for the oversized lug and not least of all because his height and mass make him feel safer but also on account of his natural predisposition for continually carding tousling fingers through his hair and for calling him _uce_ and _babe_ and all that shit.

He misses the comfort of it and yet it's only been an hour.

Remembering his cellmate however fuels his conviction since it's the bigger man for whom he has taken the blame and the undercover lawman that he is trying to keep protected and so to that end he grins broadly and then lifts up his gaze,

"So then boss, when's the food getting' here? M' gettin' all hungry just sittin' waitin' y' know?"

"Being a criminal works up an appetite."

"Whatever you say man – you're the expert after all."

He throws the words out with a bite of accusation that cascades unannounced off his unexpecting tongue and which proceeds to plunge them both into a silence that is every part as furious as it is bizarrely sort of stunned. Dean has never been good at staying quiet but there are moments in his life when he wishes that he had, which include when he had tried to talk back to his dealers but is fast being surpassed by having let the last line slip out.

Bischoff sneers at him,

"You god damn bastard."

He is just about as livid as the copper blonde has seen, which admittedly isn't a good indication since he has never seen the guy even _riled_ before and is probably because their leather loving warden has been careful to craft a loose and easy appearing style. Like the mildly drunk uncle in the corner at a party who everyone loves but only sees once in a while, or the old guy at college who thinks he's a tweener and stills hangs with the kids.

It's a pretty good front.

No one would expect the biker jacket wannabe with his nicknames and grinning features to be a killer behind the scenes and in all honesty he plays his part to such pure perfection that it would almost be impressive –

If not for the sketchy murdering thing.

Dean smirks back,

"Yeah well, I've been called worse man."

"You're not like him are you?"

"Not like who?"

Bischoff ignores him but keeps on talking in a wildly offhand and sort of spacey kind of way, like he is harkening back to something locked in his memories and which makes him tilt his head in a Bray Wyatt type way.

"When he was down here he was sweating and crying, it was pitiful really."

Dean fast seizes up and then narrows his blue eyes in over the concrete because a horrible suspicion is beginning to rise up and claw at his body like a handful of talons as he holds his damn breath.

Nuh uh, no way.

Bischoff continues with a flicker in his direction and then the ghost of a smile as he goes in for the kill, not in the literal definition but just as brutally as he reaches his crescendo.

"Sami _begged_ before he went."

"Fuckin' asshole."

Dean surges up from the mattress in a turn of pace that frankly surprises even himself considering that his hands are still twisted behind him and have put him off balance, but he is working on rage and being propelled by an incoming cloud bank that is flooding his senses and filling up his head, until all he has before him is the man who killed his cellmate and made him suffer in the final seconds of his life.

"You bastard, fucker, son of a bitch, cocksucker – ,"

Bischoff steps back in response to the spiel but he's actually fully grinning as well at it, which is vaguely disconcerting since he _should_ be backing up, given that the copper blonde wants to tear his arms off or more than likely bite the nose from his face.

Dean is going to murder the asshole.

Except he doesn't because two figures swoop in and hold him in place as he flails and kicks out and screams like a lunatic in his total and utter breakdown-fuelled need for revenge.

"Bischoff you're a _dead_ man."

He bellows it loudly and is wounded when the smug warden doesn't even flinch and instead steps in towards his hopelessly captured inmate before singing a little sentence out,

"Well now, you first."

Dean shivers bodily and then turns towards the threshold as a third guard pulls a folding chair into the space and then sets it up in the middle of the concrete before freeing his shoulder of a thinly corded rope.

Dean swallows,

"Fuck, no – ,"

He has a working timeframe and in it he has to last the precious forty eight hours which means that he cannot be hanged in the next five minutes, because the cavalry will show up too fucking late to help. Worse than that still, Roman might be the one to find him and he hates knowing that the big guy will fully blame himself.

He struggles again,

" _No_."

But the warden remains unmoving and so do the guards holding tight onto his limbs, who are looking at the scene with completely blank expressions which are functional and loose like it's a totally normal thing.

Bischoff sighs,

"I'm sorry Ambrose, really, but we both know you read the notebook and I can't let that be."

Hands reach in and drop the noose around his neck line and he shakes his head and tries to snap with his teeth, but can't do anything as the loop is pulled tighter until he can feel the knot pushing his trachea like a fist.

"You know they won't let you fuckin' get away with this."

He means it to sound less _nineties movie_ than it does and so deflates a little when the warden laughs broadly, like the warning is the funniest damn thing he's heard in months. He tips up his hands in a totally smug gesture and then clicks his tongue regretfully,

"Have been so far, besides you forget I'm the golden boy of prisons, I turned this place around."

"You call killin' _turnin' it around_?"

Dean breaks off with a grunt as he's pushed forward and then bodily dragged towards the ominously placed chair. Behind it is a guard tying off the trailing rope end, which has been thrown across a pipe to give an adequate hanging swing.

Bischoff shrugs,

"I do what I have to, I mean, you think this is a glamorous job I got here?"

Dean is brought suddenly to a halt beside the gallows and desperately tries to kick the metal chair up, hoping to stall his fate a little longer like someone might come in and save his ass or call it off. Roman for one, since he's only two floors above them and therefore too damn close to let this crazy play out.

Dean shuts his eyes,

 _Come on man, help me_.

But his brother has been forcibly locked into their cell and even then would have to make it through secure doorways and security cameras and a phalanx of guards to make it down to where they are, which is frankly pretty much totally impossible and so a sadly wasted hope.

Bischoff continues to drone on,

"I mean, I barely earn enough to live on in this place, I deserve _more_."

"So you kill innocent men?"

"Innocent? You're _criminals_."

Bischoff spits the word out and the copper blonde sees how far down the hatred runs and finds it twisted around the bastard's frozen morals and seeping it's way into his hard done by pores.

Dean glares back,

"Then guess what – so are you man."

Bischoff turns to scream at the guards,

" _Get him up_."

Rough hands haul him up onto the chair base and his stomach flips over as the rope is tightened up, holding him in place high up on his tiptoes as his breathing begins to come out in tiny mouse breaths, constricted by the warningly narrowed noose around his windpipe and which hints at far, far fucking worse things to come. Bischoff continues like they are having a casual dinner,

"Men who cause problems have to be removed, but where _to_ with all this prison overcrowding?"

Dean grunts and then his heart flips clean over as one of his feet slips off the faux leather seat and then threatens to start the hanging that second but is averted as one of the guard grabs up his shirt since they obviously want him dead only when and if they say it.

Bischoff holds his arms out,

"I'm just helping with the national inmate burden in the quickest and cheapest way that I know how."

"Yeah you're a regular fuckin' humanitarian."

He croaks the words out since they are stuck in his throat thanks to the rope and the fear and the _everything_ but they still succeed in zinging around the prison cell and then bouncing back in one last final act of rebellion.

Bischoff sighs,

"You know what, I kinda like you, it's a shame to have to kill you."

He lifts a foot up and then presses it gently to the base of the precariously balanced little seat and prepares to kick it out fully from under him.

" _Wait_ – ,"

"Too late son, goodbye Ambrose."

* * *

 **CLIFFHANGER! *Super evil laugh***

 **Big chapter next time folks (which probably goes without saying at this point) but yeah, basically I'll see you in three!**


	30. Raw Hatred

**This chapter is going to be pretty breakneck so hold onto your hats ladies and gentlemen (mostly ladies though let's be honest here) Go Roman, go, go Roman, Roman, go, go Roman…**

 **Hayley1001, Well, in that case I have some very good news for you because there is a whole lot more anger and suspense coming your way in this chapter…in fact a whole lot of anger and especially from our big Samoan undercover cop!**

 **Minnie1015, Yep, I'm sure I'll be able to top that cliffhanger with another one in another story at some point, but that may take the prize for the cliffiest cliffhanger I have broken off on yet. But hey, I've got to get you into my ramblings somehow!**

 **Martha, Haha, never fear, here comes the next chapter and hopefully all questions will be answered (well, until the next chapter anyway!) Thank you, I guess I just figured that if people cared enough to leave a comment then I would care enough to respond. It's the least I can do for my lovely reviewers!**

 **Cheryl24, *Takes a bow* Thank you very much, I think in terms of cliffhangers that last chapter was pretty much the dictionary definition of how they're meant to be! I do love a good cliffhanger though and as much as anything they mean I can take a breath when writing. All hail the cliffies!**

 **Skovko, Funnily enough I'm not very good at writing horrors. I've got a horror-ish type oneshot coming up for the boys in my Police AU series and I'm not ashamed to say that I freaked myself out briefly when writing it and I knew what happened (I'm a wimp!)**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Cliffhangers are the ultimate love-hate relationship. Is it a bad thing that I kind of give a malevolent chuckle whenever I write one in? Maybe, but come on, its not a thriller story without them. Necessary evils of the writing world!**

 **Guest, Many thanks, hope you like the big dramatic fallout!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Thank you, glad you're enjoying it…Dean isn't and neither of Roman, but that might change…**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Haha, I'm not sure if it's good or bad you being rendered speechless! Good because I'm mean so I like you on the edge of your seat and bad because I've got you on the edge of your seat, since that means now I have to deliver *crosses fingers***

 **Mandy, Aww, much love to you and your grandmother. Mine is in her nineties and I worry about her so much. She's healthy right now, but I feel your pain. Because I'm not updating on Thursday I'm going to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY now, hope you have a lovely day!**

 **Stingerette1975, Don't worry, Roman is working on getting to his boy, but the question is will he get there in time to stop what's happening? Either way Bischoff is going to be a dead man. Hmm, are any of these teases working by the way?!**

 **Daisysakura, Come on, I know you love it really! Besides, Dean being in terrible trouble and Roman having kittens about him being okay means lots of brotherliness when they finally get back together…I mean, if Roman makes it there in time of course…**

 **Come on then, let's do this…**

* * *

 **Raw Hatred**

Roman is lucky –

Well, relatively speaking since in real terms he isn't very lucky at all, given that his cellmate is in the hands of a maniac who clears space in his prison by killing helpless men.

No.

Instead the big man is _sort of_ lucky in that the three guards who have grabbed him swiftly taper off to one, who keeps his left arm twisted up right behind him to make him think again about going wild or kicking off. It isn't a particularly effective restraint hold and is one that the cop knows how to easily break up, but he lets it happen anyway as they descend into the prison through locked doors and into the solitary wing.

Looks and color wise it seems identical to their own floor, except for the fact there are no men moving about and that the doors are fewer and none of them are open and nor is it two storied or blessed with natural light.

Roman grimaces.

Death pervades the corridor and shivers through his bones because his uce is somewhere there and possibly spending his final few hours in a windowless box contemplating his end.

No god damn _way_ is he going to let that happen.

Doors buzz shut behind them and he is pulled to a halt as the guard that is holding him less securely than he imagines makes them pause beside a tiny and unoccupied dank cell.

"Hold it."

Keys jangle hard and roughly on a belt chain but the undercover policeman only half registers the sound, since he is trying to take in every inch of their surroundings and the fact that it's so quiet.

Where the hell are all the guards?

Not that he has a whole wealth of experience, but even _he_ knows each prison floor should have a half a dozen men and especially on the wing where they stash the problem inmates. The fact there are none is therefore pretty troubling and he frowns,

"You got any guys at all working down here?"

He gets his answer spat back,

"Is that your business you piece of scum?"

It is bitten out with no small amount of raw hatred and the lawman scowls in heated response, because he already knows that the warden has helpers and has already figured out that it must be the guards.

 _Some_ of them anyway –

Like the guy cursing behind him and fumbling to get the right key in the lock and whose attentions are therefore turned away from the prisoner that he thinks he still has so well wrapped up.

Roman tries again,

"I wanna know where you took my cellmate."

"I wouldn't worry about _his_ ass."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Metal clicks on metal as the key finds purchase and then scraps over the lock to give the heavy bolts release and the noise it creates turns the bigger man's stomach because he needs to move fast.

"It _means_ he's had his chance, that asshole will be outta here by the morning one way or another."

Roman doesn't much like the sound of that.

Damn.

Hands shift on his arm and behind him he hears the door swing as he is turned around towards it in an attempt to push him in and which is pretty much the make or break chance he has been waiting for right from the moment they walked into the wing.

Roman moves like a dart.

"Hey, what the – ,"

It is a shout unleashed by the smaller prison officer as the tall, well-built prisoner suddenly pivots wildly back, twisting himself easily out of the restraint hold and then blocking the hands swiftly as they scrabble for the belt.

"Sorry man,"

Roman propels him backwards two handed and the guard stumbles in across the threshold of the room, windmilling his arms as he tries not to overbalance but then powerless to stop the man from snatching up his gun, which is slipped from its holster and then pointed towards him with a steely looking gaze.

"Hey you can't – ,"

"Where's my cellmate at?"

"I don't – ,"

Roman grinds the sentence out firmly, brooking no arguments or wasting time,

"Tell me now."

For a second the guard simply goldfishes back at him, like he cannot believe he has been bested by a con, but luckily the handgun hovering in front of him and expertly trained proves the incentive to tell the truth and he raises his hands before slumping a little in heavy defeat,

"Might wanna try the end room."

"Thanks."

Roman bites the word out distastefully and then uses his free hand to swing shut the thick door, that locks into place as the guard surges forward with a look of sheer panic or else embarrassment,

"Hey, _wait_."

Roman is already halfway across the concrete in a stride that borders on a lolloping run, brown eyes bouncing back and forth like lasers as he takes in the locked cell doors and then discounts every one.

 _The end room_.

He blisters a path towards the brickwork where the confines of the solitary wing slam to a halt and then turns towards the only door left he hasn't looked in and which is lying wide open.

He blinks.

Holy shit.

Initially all he sees is a sudden press of bodies, which number far too many to be packed into the small room. Most of them are wearing the khaki tones of the corrections staff but to the side is a flash of leather and then perched above them –

Bright orange.

 _Dean_.

His brother is balanced on a chair in the center with his hands evidently pinned in place behind his back and there is a long length of rope hanging down from above him which has been tied off in a gut wrenching noose around his throat and Bischoff is standing with one foot up on the kick bar, seconds away from knocking it wholesale over.

"Stop."

Roman booms the word in a furious syllable that echoes off the walls and makes them all jolt but which also startles the shit out of his cellmate who wobbles unsteadily before looking up.

"Uce."

Dean blows the word out like he has been fast hanging onto it and has finally been given the chance to let it out and at the same time he lets his blue eyes fold in sheer gratitude as his body shudders and then rattles the noose.

Bischoff steps forward,

"What in the hell is this?"

He seems furious and in response the guards move to pull out their own guns, but are countered by the point of the weapon poised in front of them which tenses in warning.

"Get your god damn hands up – right up, now – every last one of you."

Roman isn't playing around but he is on the back foot and outnumbered like crazy besides being in stood in the midst of hostile territory in the bowels of a prison that is swarming with guards.

Bischoff knows it too,

"What are you planning to do with that son?"

"Get your foot off the chair."

"Or you'll what?"

Roman paused to suck a steadying breath in,

"I'm an undercover officer working outta the third precinct – ,"

"Sure you are."

" _Get your foot off the chair_."

Roman straight up bellows the sentence but instead of cowing the prison warden into compliance it instead has a far less welcome effect which seems to push him past the point of no redemption, which he does with a smile.

"Nope."

Then he kicks out hard.

 _Shit_.

In the blink of an eye the copper blonde is falling and it forces the undercover lawman to move, the handgun clattering to the floor as he launches and then carves through the press of compliant prison guards.

" _Dean_ – ,"

He grabs up the legs as soon as he is close enough then wraps his arms around them before pushing them up and the second he does the brutal sounds of choking that had started to fall out subside to painful wheezed out coughs.

"You're alright uce, you're alright I've gotcha."

Dean slumps in over his shoulder a little but his lean frame is positively vibrating with shock and possibly with the knowledge that they are both completely cornered because they are hopelessly outmanned and no longer have a gun.

Bischoff snorts,

"Well, this _is_ romantic."

Dean coughs out a splutter and then a curse,

"F-fuck you."

Roman winces and then shuts his eyes briefly as he listens to the sound of the guards pulling their guns and the buzz of the solitary wing door unlocking as no doubt more of the corrupt men beat a path through.

He has failed them both.

Totally and utterly.

Dean is going to be killed simply because of him and he will probably have to stand there and watch it as a similarly matching fate is more than likely prepared for him.

He drops his head against his friend,

"I'm so sorry babe."

"N-not your fault b-big guy, n-one of this s-shit."

Bischoff however breaks sharply through the moment with a loud and unimpressed sounding bark, that he directs towards his entirely heartless workforce in tones of hard fought victory,

"Pull him back, let's get this done."

Roman feels hands fall down around his shoulders but holds on ever more tightly in response, because he knows if he lets go then his best friend will have nothing and will have run out of options.

Bischoff bellows,

"I said get him back."

His breath constricts in his lungs and then falters as the air in the room seems to suddenly become thin and a whistling stokes up in his ears that blocks the sound out –

But not the sudden voice that cuts in towards him,

"Reigns?"

He blinks.

Huh?

Something has happened.

Blue colored shirts are pouring in through the door and standing tall above the sudden swarm of activity is his shaven haired and abnormally tall boss, who has his gun raised up but is blinking in confusion with about a million other things mixed in as well.

Bischoff gapes,

"What – who are you – what are you doing here?"

Hunter ignores him and instead calls in more men, waving them through the door with a flash of black pinstripe and a steely expression that is familiar and so damn good. Roman watches numbly as his colleagues flood around him, firearms pointed outwards and throwing orders about, that ping off the walls and fill the room with bellows and the sounds of taking charge that make his ears ring.

Mick Foley had done it.

Foley had got them there, but hell his boss must have dropped everything and _flown_.

"Reigns? Easy now, easy, I got it."

Hunter is there swiftly with his fingers at the rope and scrabbling to pull the noose from its neck based position before finally slipping it free across the copper blonde scruff.

" _Fuck_."

Dean blows the word out heavily and then folds completely over the bigger man's back, which gives Roman the cue to set him down gently although the younger man's shaking legs briefly refuse to hold him up.

"Whoa – ,"

He slides to the ground in a crumple and the bigger man goes with him to help prop him up, sliding behind him and pulling him backwards until his cellmate is sitting and pulled back into his chest. Dean is still coughing and breathing too heavily and more likely than not fighting back a panic attack, so Roman rocks him gently and tousles the loose curls as he murmurs out in gruff tones,

"I got you, I got you uce."

Hunter is standing staring down at them in bafflement, but neither man has the extra energy to care. Dean looks up wearily,

"We – we fuckin' got him."

"Yeah we did babe, his ass is going down."

"Sami would never have believed all a' this shit."

Roman rubs his hand across the scruffy mop of hair and then grinds his fingers deep into the soft roots like he can press them physically in through his skin and soak up some of the hurt his friend is feeling, but instead he snorts wryly then smiles,

"He ain't the only one."

* * *

 **Who would ever have doubted good old Mick Foley huh? Man came through! Two more chapters now and then we're finished, but we've got kind of a lot to wrap up before then. Hopefully I'll see you in three as ever!**


	31. You Bet Babe

**Second to last chapter here then folks so this party is almost over! I'm going to say it again next chapter as well, but what the hell, THANK YOU SO MUCH for following this crazy through with me, means a lot!**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Only one more chapter after this one *sobs uncontrollably*. No sequel written as yet, but there is definitely going to be room for one and I have a couple of ideas rattling around in my head as well as to where I could take it, so yeah, I'll get round to it at some point…once all my other Dean stories are written/up!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yeah, at least in my story Roman and Dean got the last laugh. Not so much on RAW, but hey, I'm enjoying all the gifs of Roman freaking out about Dean. Makes these crazy stories of mine seem more legit somehow! Good old Mick. Agreed, Badass Roman is always good, ain't no one standing in the way of getting to his brother (except half the locker room on RAW it seems!)**

 **Stingerette1975, I know, Triple H is such a bad guy in my Police stories AND in my Lauren/Dean stories that it felt a little weird him being the good boss, but I tried a bunch of other people and kept coming back to him. Besides, I guess there's a reason the NXT crew call him 'Papa' because he must be pretty awesome IRL (and also in here for once!)**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Awww, thank you! Not much more to go now!**

 **Hayley1001, Yay, glad you liked that last chapter. But yeah, no more Bischoff means no more case, so Roman is a free bird! Going to address that a bit in this one because that is a super important thing (especially for Dean) but hopefully it all makes sense and I've not been too hard on Dean! I mean, our poor boy needs a bit of a break somewhere right? Hopefully I give him even more of a break in the very last chapter too!**

 **Skovko, I like to think Mick got as far as 'Roman's in trouble' and Hunter was off shouting at men to drop everything and follow him. Meanwhile I very much see Mick still on the phone aimlessly listing things that he has banged his skull into over the years. Because I feel like Mick is a guy who can have a conversation that seldom needs to have anybody reply!**

 **Martha, Haha, this may be Triple H's greatest moment (he'll go back to being a bad guy in my other stories, so enjoy it while it lasts Trips!) Glad you liked it. I even through in some brother content for you…well, okay, for me! I'm definitely toying with the idea of a sequel, because there is totally scope, but I've got some other things to post up first (Roman/Dean…and sometimes Seth based obviously!) But yeah, I love this universe too much not to ramble back to it at some point!**

 **Minnie1015, Yeah, I had to wrap it up at some point, even I can't string out those big dramatic moments and scenes forever. You can sit back and relax now, because coming up we just have a couple of wrapping up chapters to go to make sure everyone gets what's coming to them, which is a good or a bad thing depending on who you are in this story. I do love writing Roman coming to the rescue though! He's so damn earnest!**

 **Mandy, My grandmother keeps buying little mats to protect her carpet and I am terrified that she is going to trip over them! Wishing the best for you and your grandmother. Glad I got you on the edge of your seat. But like Roman wasn't going to get to his boy, even though I left it pretty close this time. Hope you had a lovely birthday and spent it doing something special or have some nice birthday plans for the weekend.**

 **Daisysakura, Well, I believe I promised you angsty Roman and Dean-saving Roman so that was it. Love writing Roman all panicky and angry riding to the rescue! But I also like him being sweet and comforting so we've got lots of that as we wrap this thing up. Especially in the next chapter, but we've got to get through this one first, which hopefully won't be as nail biting as the last one (brownie promise!)**

 **Cheryl24, Haha, very good. *Laboriously drags drumkit out of the garage and sets it up* Buh-boom-boom-ch *puts hand on symbol then puts it all back* Probably lucky he didn't physically use his head though because otherwise he would still be butting the phone room wall and Roman and Dean would probably be...well...not so much living. Yay for Mick!**

 **Right then peeps, come on…**

* * *

 **You Bet Babe**

Bischoff actually cuts a pretty sorry looking figure since it turns out that orange is not his color _at all_ because it makes him looked washed out and old and kind of haggard and Dean loves every second of seeing him that way.

 _Ass_.

He is sat in the courtroom in the front row of the audience which is a special concession given so that he can watch the sentence being passed and is something that his ever loyal big dog has wrangled on the basis that it was the copper blonde who helped to put the warden there.

It makes a change to be sitting in the audience –

Last time his ass had been squarely in the dock or sat at the table beside the nervy little lawyer that the state had seen fit to pair him up with, but who had practically sweated clean through his breasted jacket when he had taken to the floor.

Dean had lost his case by a mile.

Being in the gallery therefore and not in front of it, is a novelty that he decides pretty quickly that he likes and were it not for the fact that he is _also_ wearing orange and a loose pair of cuffs then he might almost feel normal.

Except for the fact that he's absolutely not.

It is a message underlined by the man on his left side, who is wearing the ugly khaki that denotes the prison staff and who is sitting with one hand on the butt of a taser that he is clearly ready and prepared to have to use and who replies with a glare when the inmate tries to smile at him in a burn that implies they will never be friends.

But that's okay –

Because sitting on his _right_ side is a man who scrubs up surprisingly well and away from the orange prison threads they have grown used to, owns a pretty sharp collection of shirts, ties and suits. Roman is glowering hard over the barricade at the newly disgraced warden and he grumbles as well, particularly when details of the _near hanging_ are read out when he even screws his fists up.

Dean pats him,

"Easy uce."

It has taken them six long months to reach this point and many back and forth additional court showings beyond that, which have been pretty harrowing in terms of their content and not least when they had gotten to the previous deaths.

 _Fuck_.

In the wake of being raided no small shortage of corrections staff had lined up to cut deals and help to bury their former boss and so the brutal specifics of what had happened in each murder had been brought into the open and then laboriously read out.

Sami –

God damn it.

Had _that_ ever been a hard day having to sit and listen to what had happened to his friend and which had unhappily synced with what the older man had crowed at him back when _he_ had been facing the same exact fate.

Sami evidently hadn't gone down easy but he _had_ been utterly terrified at the end and hearing it recited in tones of such dispassion had been a hard thing.

A fucking hard thing.

Roman had fortunately been on hand to calm his nerves down, which he had done with the long proffered hand to the nape, but the copper blonde had still had to fight back the impetus to launch to his feet and bellow and swear.

"He was a fuckin' _person_ , they're makin' him sound like no one,"

Roman had grumbled in low tones,

"I know babe,"

"Should be someone up there who cared about him, 'stead of some stuffed suit just readin' that shit."

Dean is not alone in his support for his cellmate though, since some of his former friend's family also turn up and sit on the opposite side of the courtroom with firm expressions to stare daggers at the accused. Sami had often told him that nobody loved him and that his general kinfolk relationships were no good and so it warms him to see that people have turned up for him.

It just sucks fucking _rocks_ that he can't see it for himself.

Dean is there though to make sure the flag gets flown for both of them and it is why he is front and center for every last hearing and none more so than on sentencing day.

He is more than ready to get some retribution –

He is so damn ready that he digs channels into the balustrade as he leans himself forward to hear it done and then locks them in place as the jury reads the word out and sends a shockwave of pure relief rippling over the place.

 _Guilty_.

Dean huffs,

"Fuckin' right, fuckin' asshole."

Beside him the guard with the taser gets antsy, like he thinks the copper blonde might suddenly lose the plot, but he simmers down when Roman puts a hand on his friend's shoulder and then kneads out the tension,

"We got him babe, told you we would."

"Not over yet uce, m' still waitin' on the electric chair."

Roman chooses not to point out that the outcome is unlikely since that particular mode of death no longer happens in their state and in response Dean pretends like he doesn't already know it, since in his barren and fucked up heart a painful death is all he wants.

It isn't to be though –

Instead the jury balk it which he puts down entirely to a little old lady in the third row of the box who has her knitting in a bag on her skirt pleats and seems like the type to not want to judge a man too harsh.

Bischoff is sentenced to ninety three years.

Dean kicks out at the barricade bitterly as the murmur of onlookers rises up like a cloud and he can't help but notice that they sound sort of approving, which _cannot_ be said for him.

"He still gets to live?"

How is that justice when his poor helpless victims are lying dead and buried in the ground? Having been bound and then strung up from a water pipe in a place they had been sent to because apparently _they_ were bad but who had met their maker at the hands of far worse bastards who had been socially accepted.

 _Ugh_.

People fucking suck.

Roman blows a breath out and then looks across evenly, his brown eyes flickering in sympathy at the loss and getting it totally and understanding the emotions that are flowing thick and fast through his too fractious friend.

"He ain't ever gettin' out uce."

"That's not the point Roman."

"I know babe, I know, but think about it for a while, think about the kind of abuse he'll go through."

He means considering the murderous warden's former job and how well that will resonate with a prison full of inmates who blame the corrections system for robbing them of their lives and who like to make those feelings unflinchingly obvious by finding employees and beating them down.

Former employees are also as good as any.

Dean sighs heavily,

"Yeah, I guess you're right but I still think it sucks."

"That's okay, you can think that."

"An' I still wanna pay someone to carry out a hit."

Roman blinks at him and the blue eyes sparkle in a tiny little way that show he's hamming it up and therefore isn't likely to send a message through the system to reward whichever inmate manages to knock the guy off.

Although on second thoughts –

Roman snorts wryly and then nudges him a little too hard with his arm, which sends the copper blonde crashing into the corrections guard, who fumbles his taser and then frowns up a storm.

 _Wow_.

Dean sits up quickly and offers a nervy smile back as his bigger brother then easily carries on, totally aware of the trouble he is causing but also not averse to pulling pranks of his own.

"How's the new guy?"

"You mean the new warden?"

"Uh huh."

Dean shrugs,

"I mean, I guess he's fine – more warden _like_ if that makes sense or whatever, no leather jackets."

In other words then a normal man and hopefully someone who doesn't see the prison as some sort of killing ground or a place to make fast cash and which therefore makes it okay he is totally boring because they've done the cool boss and look how _that_ shit turned out.

Roman smiles,

"What about the new roommate?"

Dean responds with an actual grin because since the police busted in six months earlier and saved both their asses from a very grim fate, there is one thing that has turned out to not be horrible and that is the fact that he was able to switch cells. Roman had gotten him a place in with Foley and it has managed to ease the burn of the big man being gone.

"He's cool, he headbutted the chow hall door last week."

"He okay?"

Dean snorts,

"He's always okay, got a guy to swap him six pudding cups for doin' it."

Roman chuckles back,

"Yeah, that sounds like him."

Possibly another added bonus of their friendship and the fact that Roman holds sway on the legal front is that the final fucking thorn in his side is also long gone because Bray Wyatt and the beard twins have also been moved on. Dean doesn't know precisely _where_ they've been shipped off to, but he knows they're split up and he also knows who to thank. Even though Roman refuses to admit it there is a grin on his face that he struggles to hide and which pops up whenever the swamp men are mentioned, which is pretty fucking telling.

Life is starting to look alright.

Not that it gets easier going back into prison and his heart still drops stone-like whenever the hearings get done, because he likes being out in the world and with Roman and the thought of his box cell is a pretty bitter one.

Roman knows it too,

"Hey, you only got three months man and then you're all good and out of there."

"Still takin' me in?"

It is a question he asks every time they are together, because he honestly can't believe Roman would want to live with his ass, but is also a question that the bigger man answers steadily, the same exact way every single time,

"You bet babe."

* * *

 **Right, only one chapter left now folks, so I hope to see you back here for the final piece of this whole crazy and for some notes on the next project I've got coming up.**


	32. Free Man Now

**Here we go then, last chapter in this story and I'm totally conflicted. Because while it's nice to round off a story and tick that 'completed' box it's bittersweet too as I have loved taking you all on this crazy journey. Please see the bottom for what is coming up from me next.**

 **Hayley1001, Yeah, thinking of Dean having to be inside without Roman is kind of sad, which is why I gave him good old crazy headbutting Foley for the last few months. But I think you're going to like this last chapter! Thank you for jumping aboard for this fiction and reviewing every chapter. It really means a lot. Hope to see you next time!**

 **Wolfgirl2013, Yep, busy writing Dean and Lauren now so those two are coming! As ever, thank you for following and reviewing this story. I'm glad that you've enjoyed it and…oh, by the way, you rock!**

 **Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Oh god yeah, real life Ambreigns brother moments are back on TV and I couldn't be happier! have I missed seeing it (hence all the writing about it!) More brotherhood in this last chapter for you. Thank you so much for your reviews by the way and for loving my Dean. He is a hard character to write sometimes because anything is possible with him. See you next time?!**

 **Raze Olympus, Haha, sorry but it has to end sometime and this one was SUPER long by my standards! Plus, Dean needs to be released from the big house because honestly, that is the least the boy deserves at this point with everything I put him through! Glad you liked the story and thank you heaps for reviewing. I hope my next stories can deliver as well…see you there?!**

 **Cheryl24, Actually the new warden wasn't anyone specifically, so he can be whoever you like. I just kind of pictured him plain and stuffy…not sure there are many wrestlers like that though! But feel free to imagine! Thank you so, sooo much for reviewing and for following this crazy ride. Hope to see you back at the Shield oneshots!**

 **Guest (Skittlez et tu?) Hell yeah Roman pulled some strings for his brother, because can you imagine how panicky he would be on the outside thinking of Dean being roomed with a stranger? At least he's had Mick to keep an eye on him. Little more of Mick in this last chapter too (fitting since he is supposed to be on RAW tonight!) Anyway, MASSIVE thank you for coming on this crazy ride and for reviewing so faithfully as always. See you next time *crosses fingers***

 **Martha, Haha, probably because you can vividly see Dean getting pissed off anywhere? He's like a grumbly little puppy (snappy but cute!) Well, since this is the last chapter (can't believe it either) I just wanted to say thank you for reviewing and getting so excited about this story each and every chapter. I warms a poor writer's heart. Hope to see you in the reviews section in the future for more of my Dean/Roman fun times (well, not usually fun for Dean but fun for us!) Thank you.**

 **Minnie1015, More cuteness in this chapter, cuteness overload perhaps…maybe? Nothing like some good platonic love and Roman being a proud as punch teddy bear. I'm glad I strung these last chapters into two parts as well, because initially I was going to cram them in one. Anyway, enjoy and as always, THANK YOU for being there every chapter and beyond to make me smile and feel halfway competent as a writer! See you next time (and in between!)**

 **Skovko, Agreed, a lifetime in jail to have to think about what you've done (or in Bischoff's case having to live amongst the people he hurt) is way worse than death. Bischoff deserves some sketchy mental health for what he pulled in this one. Yep, Dean and Mick as roommates! That is a sitcom in the making right there and I've got a tiny bit more Mick before we finish (good old Mick). Well, here we are again and as ever a Ma-hoosive thank you for reviewing and letting me know I'm doing something right. See you next time!**

 **Stingerette1975, Absolutely, Roman is not about to leave Dean after everything they've been through and no way was he going to let him room with some random criminal. Besides, Mick deserves a good roommate too (and I like to think he has gotten better at making breakfast in the interim too!) Well, as ever, thank you sooo much for your reviews and following all these crazy stories of mine. Same time next week?!**

 **Mandy, Nope, sorry, no Seth BUT when the oneshots come back next Monday I can promise a weekly dose of Seth which will hopefully ease the burn a little. Plus with all this real life Shield goodness on our television, what more can fangirls ask for huh?! (Please don't let them implode too soon!) Keep hanging in there and trying to find the little chinks of positive in life. They're there somewhere *hugs* and thank you SO much for your reviews. You know I love reading them!**

 **Rebel8954, I'm seeing a horrible time in prison for Bischoff. No leather jackets and hair gel anymore! Maybe he crosses paths with a few inmates who knew some of the guys he killed before they switched jails. I'm thinking he will have to be kept in solitary most of the time. No less than he deserves though! Thank you for your reviews, they always make me smile so I hope to see you next time too.**

 **Okay everyone, for the last time then…**

* * *

 **Free Man Now**

Despite the fact he has been moving in and out for the past six months going to hearings and shit, Dean still finds himself embarrassingly fucking nervous about the prospect of stepping foot out in the real world again.

Crazy really –

Right?

Foley thinks briefly at which point the copper blonde knows he's said the thing out loud and resists the urge to kick himself repeatedly for being such a baby instead of a big grown ass man.

Mick remains kind,

"No, come on man, I mean, this place is your new normal and it's scary outside."

Dean frowns,

"Even for you?"

In reply the older man throws his hands open and chuckles back like the answer is already implied but which his cellmate has never particularly considered in any real way.

"What do you think man? I mean, there's a reason I do the headbutting thing and it ain't psychosis."

"You _like_ being in here?"

"This place is my home."

Behind them a figure steps in through the doorway and then clears his throat with a gruff but respectful sounding note, which is something else that has changed in the months since Bischoff because the staff seem keen to treat the inmates much more like real men.

Dean turns around,

"Time to bust this joint m' guessin'?"

He is greeted with a stern faced nod of a yes and so stands from his uncomfortable thin bed for the last time before putting out a hand towards his bulky cellmate.

Mick bats it off,

"Oh no, come in here."

Before he can blink he is wrapped in a bear hug, which swallows his leaner frame almost entirely and bundles him up in the bright orange threads and more than a passing tickle of the hair nest that pretty much envelops the older man's entire head.

Mick squeezes too,

"Whoa, buddy, can't breathe here – ,"

Foley lets him go but then slaps him on the back and the motion is so ferocious but also so loving that Dean barely minds being piled into the wall and so rights himself laughing like a weird sort of goof ball before collecting up his bag and holding up a fist.

Foley bumps it,

"Take care of yourself partner."

"You too Mick an' _hey_ stop breakin' that head."

His escort leaves the room and he slowly steps with it but he savors every second of crossing the cell block floor, because he knows it's the last time he's ever going to do it since he is never ever planning on being sent back in again and won't be either on account of the side note that he'll be rooming his hopeless ass with a detective from now on.

Provided that Roman shows up to collect him –

Maybe in the meantime the big guy has changed his mind and decided that having a former con in the guest room is not the best move for his blossoming police career, or even for his health and mental wellbeing?

No.

Dean grumbles quietly to himself.

Uce _will_ be there.

Envious eyes follow his path across the concrete and then watch him from the tables as he is halted by the doors and then given a nod of approval from security before the bolts are unlocked and he is permitted to step through.

Final time ever.

He is then moved to holding where he has to sign what looks like a mountain of paperwork and is then strip searched which is pretty humiliating but which he stands and takes with some cussing and less than a modicum of grace.

"What d'ya think I've stolen from this place, oatmeal packets?"

But there is one benefit to that part and that is the fact he can finally take off the jumpsuit and be free from bright burnt orange for the first time in over a year. Even better than that is getting his regular threads back, including his much loved and overly worn beanie hat which he jams in place clean over his tangle in spite of the fact that it is summer outside.

Soooo good.

His denim jeans too feel like freaking heaven as does his hoodie and even his top and he is startled to find they both still have traces of the aftershave he had thrown on before his final day of sentencing all those long ass months before.

Paco Rabanne –

Not the real stuff but still good enough not to burn his nose and so very different from the must and sweat filled prison that he honestly feels a tear well up in his eye, which could also be allergies since his life has transformed totally and so therefore body changes might not be too out there.

Right?

His feet haven't grown though, or shrunk, which is a good thing and so he slips his tan boots on and then stamps them up and down, flexing the solid grippy rubber underneath them and revelling in how damn firm they feel.

"Fuck."

He actually begins to think he might even be dreaming but then the final stamp of approval lands heavily on the paperwork and he is thrown a nod by the woman behind the holding desk and then turned in the direction of the main door.

"Good luck."

He traverses one more corridor and is then let into a mesh cage in a blast of sudden sounds and a burst of natural light.

Damn –

It is hot and his hair begins to prickle underneath the warming knitted folds of his hat, but given that he has only been recently reunited, he stands fast by his decision and point blank refuses to take it back off.

"Prisoner leaving."

Dean jumps lightly at the bellow and then squints through the beams of sunlight towards the guard, not completely sure if it's some sort of long held ritual or whether or not the guy is simply trying to fuck him up and remind him of his former legal status and the thing he has been for so very long.

 _Buzz_.

He flinches again at the sudden sound of whirring and then stands on the spot as the chain link is opened up because it seems like some sort of horrible decision or a clerical error to be letting him back out and he cannot help but worry that in taking the walk to freedom, the doors will burst behind him and they'll realize their mistake. He is so close to leaving that he knows he can't go back again –

Better to stay in there than get used to being out.

In support of that notion he pauses on the threshold, looking out towards the asphalt and waiting for things to break and is so convinced that there's been a huge error that on hearing his name he blinks a little,

"Dean?"

Yep, there it is –

Except it isn't the woman from the desk come to fetch him or a half a dozen guards and is instead a pair of brown eyes about twenty feet away from him, hidden by sunglasses but which are there all the same, dressed casually in a summer befitting loose shirt and jeans combo and leaning back against the hood of a large black truck. He stands himself upright and then frowns above the lenses which he then tugs down to take himself a better look.

Roman.

"Uce, you coming?"

Dean blinks back feeling sideswiped and on seeing his baffled and shell shocked expression, the bigger man crosses the distance himself, moving in quickly and easily like always and then choosing to lead with an understanding word,

"Hey."

Dean coughs,

"Hey, I – I'm out man."

He says it as both a reaffirming statement but also like he is totally questioning it at the same time and Roman gently plucks the holdall from his fingers and chuckles a little in response to it,

"Yeah babe, you are."

"Kinda feels like it isn't real an' whatever, I feel all _spacey_."

He waves his hands to make the point and then throws them in the vague direction of the heavens like the bigger man might not know what precise _space_ he's referring too but which is probably because Dean doesn't know either.

Is _spacey_ space the same thing as intergalactic space?

Hmmm.

Roman blinks back for a second and then coughs gently, before bringing up a big hand up to encircle his neck and both massage and slowly propel his ass forward since he is standing on the threshold of the correctional facility and blocking the security exit which is stressing out the guard.

"Come on uce,"

Dean follows the directive and just like that steps foot back out into the world, which he has done several times but never so finally and although it's fucking _weird_ it makes his insides dance with joy.

He grins up,

"Crap."

"Free man now brother, so what do you want to do?"

Dean blinks in surprise because he honestly isn't sure about anything going forward and has been trapped in a place where options are so scanty that he is worried he has lost the ability to think or to even make a semblance of a coherent decision.

Roman is waiting though and so he tries,

"Burger and fries?"

He is worried that it sounds like a childish suggestion or is maybe a bad idea or a million other things, but is rewarded instead with a beam of elation and then a pat to the back which is lighter than Mick's but is still infused with care and understanding and bleeds in warm through his shirt,

"Burger it is, that's a great idea man."

"Wha – I mean, really?"

"You bet babe,"

Roman then turns and leads them both towards the sleek black pickup with his former cellmate's bag draped over his back and the sun dancing down on both of them in cascades which practically burn they're so freaking hot, but which Dean barely notices he's so busy smiling.

"How 'bout milkshakes too?"

Roman grins back,

"Hell yeah."

* * *

 ***Cries uncontrollably* Done, finito and god I am sorry this story is over...but, you know, I have left room for a sequel so this isn't necessarily goodbye.**

 **Right, next I am going back to my Shield Police AU oneshots because I've been getting lots of comments for those. They will be kicking back off next Monday (see you over at The Shield Unscripted) and I have another story in the Little Brother teen Dean series too. Plus a short standalone Shield wrestling story and then I am working on a new Lauren and Dean...phew *wipes sweat from forehead***

 **But in short, new Shield Police AUs starting next Monday.**

 **Thank you everyone for your lovely and very loyal support on this story, past stories and hopefully my future stories too.**

 **Much love.**


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